#so i can paint all kinds of story stuff without getting a headache

[neonblixtar]

acrylic on cardboard scraps

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 130

I am pretty excited for this chapter, not just for how it turned out but for what it sets up in the future. I don’t want to spoil it by saying anything more, but once y’all have read it, I would love to know your thoughts on it.

That said, I once again want to thank the people, coast to coast, who keep me going on this story: @the-raven-fae for being the original instigator and current podcaster of the story (check it out here!), @anotherusrname for being the best big sister a girl could ask for and for being the first person to publish any of this story in physical form (on a BLANKET no less), @baelpenrose for being my mutual beta and really egging me on more often than should probably be done, and @charlylimph-blog for... well for just being Charly. The real Charly, who is more chaotic than fictional Charly. And really, all 4 of the above for making sure I take care of myself.

“There’s some changes to the vendor list this year,” Hannah greeted as she arrived in my office.

I was still resisting the urge to cough, knowing that Noah had gotten all the chili powder out of me but nonetheless struggling against an imaginary itch in my throat.  Apparently she could tell, because she got a chai latte from the console for me as she took a seat and handed it over without acknowledging it. 

“From this list, I am going to guess that there is a huge fusion cuisine moment happening right now,” Parvati suggested.

“What gave it away? The Greek-Korean vendor, or the Brazilian-Icelandic?” Hannah joked.

I was extremely glad I had stopped sipping my latte as soon as Parvati spoke, or I would have choked on it. Yes! I thwarted the nefarious beverage! I thought to myself. “Do I even want to know how much fermented shark we are talking here?”

Parvati scrolled through her document and back to where she was, head tilted in scrutiny. “Probably not.”

“I’ll make a note to put them on the opposite end from the natto,” Hannah murmured. After doing that, she tipped her head back with a sigh. “This feels… I don’t know, empty?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, scrolling through a list of upcoming cultural seminars that we were considering.  Jokul’s suggestion to more aggressively share cultures had been a  phenomenally well-received one, and the Council had even recognized him for the way it had taken off. At this point, there were more than anyone could attend, and several requests for repeats.

My entire thought process came screeching to a halt when Hannah explained.

“We’re talking about a huge community event while also in the process of planning how to defend ourselves in the event that space pirates try to wipe out the last known members of humanity,” she pointed out. “While also being on a list of phrases I never thought to even consider being something I thought I would never say - it’s that far out there - the fact that we are still facing potential annihilation makes the Food Festival seem more like one last hurrah.  It’s kind of morbid, isn’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure the information Arthur and Charly got us demonstrated that we are more likely to be enslaved than exterminated,” Parvati added helpfully, earning a scowl from both of us. She just shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Yes, Vati, because that is so much better, thank you for reminding me,” Hannah quipped. “It still makes the Festival feel insignificant.”

“Maybe we should just cancel it - “

I slammed both my hands, palm down, on the table and surged to my feet. “Absolutely not.”

“Sophia - “

“No. This event is too important, we aren’t even humoring that notion.”

“I know that this is your baby, but hear us out…”

I shook my head vigorously. “I will not. This isn’t about me.” I pointed to both of them. “What you’re feeling right now? That’s exactly how nearly everyone on this ship feels. We are scared, and angry, and tilting ever closer to being despondent and just giving up. And that’s exactly why weeeee…” I gestured to the three of us, “can’t. We need stability, and something familiar, and a reminder of what it is like to live. To have fun.  To be as human as possible and stuff ourselves silly.  So if you think for one second I am going to let our own personal culinary Mardi Gras get cancelled, you are delusional.”

Hannah still looked reluctant, but Parvati’s expression changed so fast that it was actually terrifying. “You’re talking about raging against the dying of the light, aren’t you?”

There it was. The guerilla protester was starting to show.

Gracefully, she flowed to her feet, one finger tapping the side of her chin as she started pacing. “That’s an angle I don’t think we considered.” Without looking, she held up a hand to stop Hannah when the quieter woman opened her mouth to argue. “The Festival has always been about coming together, sharing, being peaceful. But, what if it isn’t this year?” She whirled, hair flying and eyes blazing. “The Festival will be two weeks into the next night cycle. We planned on soft emitters, retro style lamps and braziers for light. And we can still do that for the first two days. But day three…”

“Go all out,” Hannah ventured slowly. “Full on, wild, bright…”

“Yes! Blacklights, glow in the dark, fluorescents… Heavy bass in the music, the kind you feel in your chest more than you hear. Only the best dishes from each vendor, what they consider their finest achievements. Defiantly, loudly human.”

“Costumes encouraged?”

She scoffed. “Of course. Like those music festivals Before, only with food.  This isn’t our last hurrah, it’s going to be our rallying cry.”

Hannah seemed to be coming around to the notion, starting to nod with a focused expression on her face. “That would work. I can completely get behind that idea.  We’ll need Ivan.”

“And Charly Harper,” Parvati confirmed.

“Do tell,” I asked, not seeing where they were going with this.

“Ivan can help us with some of the metalwork we’ll need to reinforce the vendor’s booths. We want it to fit in with the theme, but still be functional.”

“And I don’t know where else to get enough glitter, or blacklight paint that doesn’t show under normal light.”

“Glitter…?” That terrified feeling was returning, and swiftly.

“So much glitter,” Parvati nodded seriously. “The kind that doesn’t set off sensory issues, and I know she has it at all times, I’ve seen it.  And flavorless food color, that stuff she uses in her ice cream and popcorn. I need all of it.”

I rubbed my temples as a headache started just from imagining what this was going to look like. She’s an artist, it will work. She’ll make it work, I know she will. “I put the Festival in your hands, you can do whatever you want except cancel it.”

“Just give Tyche a heads up so she can plan good costumes for you and the guys,” Hannah reassured, enthusiasm ignited at the idea of truly making the event their own.

The frown on my face actually gave me a cramp. “Why does someone else get to plan our costumes?”

“Because you wear really nice scrubs every day,” she pointed out without looking up.

“They’re comfy! But I’ll have you know I actually do know how to put together a costume, much less an outfit.”

Both of them eyed me skeptically, provoking a sigh of exasperation. “I am going to show you two, and you are both going to eat your words. Just wait.”  Deep down, under all the indignation, I was hugely relieved to have averted a crisis, especially since it wasn’t a matter of life and death for once.

I also could not wait to see their faces on night three.

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[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 3

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink, death mention, mention of politics

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: Happy New Year, everyone! We made it! To celebrate, here’s the next chapter of Honeydew. I’d like to mention that this story takes place a few years BEFORE the events of We Can Be Heroes, so that’s why some things are a bit different from canon. If we make it far enough, there might be some allusions to the movie, but for now you can think of this as being set 3-5 years before the movie. Wishing you all a safe and healthy new year!

Erin locked her car and walked down the sidewalk to the entrance of the restaurant. She felt just a little bit overdressed with her pencil skirt and ruffled blouse, but it was a day full of meetings and she didn’t have extra time to change. Hopefully she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

When she walked in, she spotted Marcus sitting by a window, gazing out into the street. The daylight highlighted the curve of his nose beautifully, almost like a painting. His glasses framed his eyes perfectly, drawing attention to the warm brown of his irises and accentuating his strong jawline. The short beard on his cheek looked soft and kissable, though shorter than her Marcus kept his.

Her heart fluttered as she stepped into the dining area. Each step towards Marcus Moreno felt like one step further away from the past, from her Marcus.

But wouldn't her Marcus want her to be happy?

Stop getting your hopes up, she scolded herself. This isn’t a date.

Part of her wished it was. It was the same part of her that gravitated towards him after they met at Sachi’s party and filled her with warmth when he texted her for the first time.

She knew it was silly to develop feelings for him; he was probably too busy for relationships. After all, he had to take care of his daughter, Missy.

What if he already had a wife, too?

Her heart sank as she glanced down at his hands, which were clasped together on the table. Shining on his left hand was a ring.

Definitely not a date, then.

“Hi,” he greeted, his face lighting up when she approached. He rose to his feet to give her a hug. When they pulled apart, he took in her outfit. “Wow, you look...great.”

She blushed, hands still resting on his arms. “Thanks, you too. I must say, a suit looks good on you.”

“Oh this? It’s nothing,” he said, beaming. Before she could stop him, he pulled out her chair so she could sit. “I, uh, ordered you a coffee; you sounded tired on the phone when you called, so I figured you would want a little pick-me-up.”

In front of her was a mug filled with steaming coffee. It was a cappuccino–one of her go-to orders. When she wasn’t surviving off of plain coffee, she loved the warmth and luxury of the more elaborate form of caffeine. Sitting down, she asked, “Thank you. How do you know my coffee order?”

Marcus laughed softly, his cheeks flushed. “Lucky guess?”

“Very lucky, indeed,” she hummed, taking a sip. As she did, memories of a certain agent and cup of coffee raced back to her. It was such a lovely coincidence that both Marcuses managed to give her coffee in the sweetest way possible. Admiring his dress shirt and tie, she asked, “Are you coming from work, or do you always dress like this for lunch dates?”

She let out a breath of relief when he explained it was for work. The man sitting across from her was already beautiful–she wasn’t sure how she’d cope if he also wore suits every day.

Marcus explained that he worked for a group called the Heroics, which was the organization responsible for coordinating superpowered individuals to protect the world. There was a dress code for those working in the offices, though sometimes the heroes staying behind could be ready in their super attire.

The Heroics were a fairly new group, one that the government had seemed interested in working with. However, most of the information was classified and only relayed to those working at the Pentagon. With the rising concerns of police brutality and the acceleration of technology, the world was searching for a newer, better, way to keep civilians safe.

When she asked him what position he had, he groaned playfully. Even after all this time, his honeydew never rested. He tried to ignore what that meant for her during the past few years. “Isn’t this supposed to be our break from work, honey?”

“What, can’t a girl be curious?” she teased, tilting her head.

Marcus chuckled, heat rushing up to his face when he realized his eyes had fallen to her red lips. Without thinking, he reached across the table to take her hand into his. “How about this: I’ll tell you later if you can make it through lunch without talking about work.”

She huffed playfully. “Alright, you win.” Rubbing her thumb along his fingers, she asked, “What do you want to talk about, Mr. Moreno?”

Everything. He wanted to talk about everything. Yet at the same time, he wanted to talk about nothing; he just wanted to spend time with his best friend.

But he was Marcus Moreno, not Marcus Pike. Even if she was his best friend, he wasn’t hers.

“I guess I just want to get to know you better,” he said, shrugging. The corners of his mouth curved up in a soft smile. “What does Erin He, the FBI’s Operational Technologies Supervisor, do in her free time?”

“Not that I have much free time these days,” she began, “but, I like making things. Food and art, mostly. There’s a new art gallery opening nearby. I’ve been meaning to go but work has taken up a lot of time. That, and most of my friends aren’t really into that kind of stuff.”

Back in Texas, Marcus had introduced her to the prospect of viewing and enjoying art, not just creating it. At first she’d been hesitant–she never really enjoyed walking through museums or galleries–but listening to Marcus’s interpretations of the artwork, and then offering her own, made her reconsider it. Maybe it was the art; maybe it was the company and quality time that used to come with it. It became a part of her life, a treat to herself amidst the bright screens and headaches. It was her escape from the world, even if it was short-lived.

She just wished Marcus could’ve been there in her years after moving to DC.

Marcus smiled. “Well, I’d love to go with you someday. Maybe not during the week, but one day when Missy’s over at a friend’s house.”

At the mention of his daughter, Erin remembered his wedding ring. Her stomach churned at the thought of keeping him away from his family. Retracting her hand, she said, “Oh, right. Of course…. But wouldn’t you want to spend time with your wife?”

His brows furrowed with confusion, then he followed her eyes to his ring. He smiled sadly. “Oh, right. I forgot to tell you…my wife passed away a few years ago.” He tapped on the metal band. “I used to see this as a symbol of my marriage, but now I like to consider it a reminder of my daughter. A reminder that I have someone waiting for me to come home and provide for.”

There were days when he missed his wife more than others, like whenever Missy would come home from school with an art project made for Mother’s Day. Or when she’d want to try new hairstyles or try on clothes at the mall. It had been years, but there were just some things he couldn’t be no matter how much he tried.

“I’m sorry,” Erin said. Offering him a small smile, she added, “For what it’s worth, I’m sure you’re a great dad.”

She always knew what to say, always a step ahead. He’d missed that about her. “I don’t have the best track record with relationships,” he replied, letting out a huff of laughter. “Let’s just say that.”

“You’re not alone in that camp,” Erin replied. She played with the corner of her napkin. “Though I must say I’ve never made it far enough to have a kid of my own, so you’ve got that going for you.”

“Why not?” He knew dating while working for the FBI was always a tricky situation, but he never thought that she, of all people, would have trouble finding someone. She was sweet, hardworking, and smarter than everyone he knew. She was....everything he ever looked for in a partner. Having lunch with her, getting to relearn what it felt like to be her friend, was everything.

But he also knew her. He understood her dedication to her work, and why she worked long hours at the office. He did the same, too. Well, until he met his wife and had Missy.

Did Erin ever get to experience that feeling? The feeling of being home and content and loved? Did he take that feeling with him when he erased his identity from the world?

She was about to answer when a waitress came up to the table to take their orders. Once the waitress left, she turned back to Marcus. “Let’s just say there was an old friend, one that I can’t ever replace.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, so quiet that she almost missed it.

Why did it sound like an apology?

Taking a deep breath, she changed the subject. “Well, it was a long time ago, anyways. I’m just happy that I met you. Tell me, Marcus: what do you like to do in your free time?”

They talked about everything they could think of, basking in comfortable silences once the food arrived. It was all easy; almost too easy. But Erin couldn’t help but let it wash over her. It had been a long, long time since she felt at peace with everything. There was just something about the way Marcus smiled that was comforting, like a hug from an old friend. His humble–almost shy–demeanor only served to draw her in. She quickly realized that, at the end of the day, he was just a man trying to do right by his daughter.

When the bill arrived, he didn’t hesitate to slip in his card and give it back to the waitress. “Don’t worry about it, honey. It’s my treat.” Winking at Erin, he said, “Maybe next time.”

---

After lunch with Marcus, the day passed in a blur. The meetings were long, but not as unbearable as she expected. Even the piles of feedback on her desk didn’t feel as daunting as they usually did. When she left the office, the weight of the folders in her arms weren’t as heavy.

Erin had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when her phone rang, buzzing against the counter. She didn’t even need to glance at the screen to know it was him; she had a special ringtone set up.

Putting the call on speaker, she answered, “Hi Marcus!”

“Hey Erin!”

Warmth filled her chest as he thanked her for having lunch with him. His voice was as soothing as ever, even through the phone. She could have listened to him talk all night.

“I had a great time, too,” she replied, beaming. Sitting on her kitchen counter, she must’ve looked ridiculous with her hair in damp tendrils. Thankfully, Marcus hadn’t decided to do a video call. “I mean it. I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in a while.”

A soft chuckle. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t bore you too much.”

She scoffed. “You could never.” Maybe to some he would be boring, but to her? He was everything. His late wife was a lucky woman, and Missy was a lucky girl. Marcus was everything she ever wanted; he was kind, thoughtful, secure. And although they’d parted ways with nothing more than a promised call, she never felt so happy.

“Actually, I was wondering–”

He stopped as a little voice piped up near him. It must’ve been Missy, his little girl. Erin could just barely hear her ask, “Who is that?”

Biting her lip, she listened on as Marcus chuckled softly and bashfully answered, “She’s, uh, a friend of mine.”

“Is she a girlfriend?”

“N-no,” he stammered, laughing nervously. “She’s just a friend.”

“Is she pretty?”

His answer made her cover her face and fight to contain a squeal. “Yes, she’s very pretty.” A pause. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, sweetie? Why don’t you get in first, I’ll be right there.”

Erin waited patiently as silence settled in the kitchen once again. Her cheeks were hurting from smiling, and she was sure she’d feel it the next morning. He thought she was pretty!

Marcus returned with a sigh. “Sorry about that, Missy can get a little curious sometimes.”

“It’s alright,” she replied, hoping she didn’t sound too giddy. “She’s cute. What were you going to ask me?”

Silence. Then, he said, “Oh, right. I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to get dinner sometime later this week?”

Her heart raced as she realized what he wanted. It had been so long; what would she wear? Did he already have a restaurant in mind? Did he really want to take her out to dinner?

Was it a date?

Already deep into the whirlwind of questions, she realized she hadn’t responded yet. Without thinking, she said, “Yes. It’s a date!”

You couldn’t have been more subtle?

She braced herself for the rejection, but it never came.

“It’s a date,” Marcus repeated softly, almost as if he were saying it to himself. A soft laugh. “I should probably, uh, go check on Missy. We can figure out the details of our date later, alright?” His voice somehow turned even softer, like velvet. “Goodnight, honeydew.”

Erin yawned, the day’s exhaustion finally setting in. Maybe those files could wait until the morning.

“Goodnight, Marcus.”

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[kingreywrites]

In the Shadow, In the Light

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2888

Summary: Everything felt wrong. She felt wrong, the caravan felt wrong, Cassandra was still mad at her for burning her hand, Lance was feeling more and more isolated because he didn't really have a friend to talk to, and she was missing something, she knew she was, but she didn't know what and it was driving her crazy. A single piece of a puzzle she couldn't see, but without it, everything came crumbling down, and she was- she was exhausted.

Note: It’s Halloween in France, and still FitzFriday in the US, aka the best time to post this!! A warning though, this is kinda sad, and a little spoopy. I hope you’ll enjoy anyway!!

Read on ao3

Silently, Rapunzel brushed Maximus' mane, finding solace in the slow and repetitive movement. It was ironic, in a way, because she had spent her life brushing her own hair, but there was something soothing in taking care of a friend, and she knew Maximus wouldn't stay so still if it wasn't for her. She tried to convince herself they were helping each other, and gently brushed it again, even though no knots remained.

These last weeks had dragged on slowly. She didn't know when it started; when the beauty of a world she had yet to discover became not enough to keep her going, but lately, everything had felt wrong to Rapunzel. A melancholy she couldn't grasp had fallen heavy on her shoulders, and left the world dull and unrecognisable. She had tried to fake her enthusiasm, persuaded that whatever funk she had fallen into wouldn't last, but she had been wrong on that count.

She felt empty. Drained, but unable to understand what she could even be missing.

It reminded her of the worst days in her tower. The days when Gothel -Mother at the time, the only person she could count on, the only person she loved- had been gone on one of her trips, and Rapunzel had been left alone. The days when everything seemed gray, and sad, and devoid of any life; the days when her paints weren't enough to cover the sadness gnawing at her slowly, when looking at her window physically hurt and nothing seemed to be able to comfort her.

But Rapunzel was free now. She had friends, and a family that was waiting for her in Corona, and no reason to feel as lost and desperate as she had back then. And yet… 

A high-pitched yell interrupted her thoughts, and both her and Maximus jumped to their feet -hooves?- and turned towards the caravan. Even Pascal, who had been relaxing next to them, squeaked in alarm. The door slammed open, and Lance tumbled out before scrambling to get even further away, still screaming continuously.

"Lance? Everything's alright?" Rapunzel asked, relaxing anyway because this wasn't a truly rare occasion. Lance was spooked by something at least twice a day, and going by Maximus' annoyed neighing, he had concluded that this wasn't serious too.

"The- the- the caravan!" Lance stuttered, rushing to hide behind Rapunzel. He pointed a trembling finger towards it, as if she needed indications to find it. "It's haunted," he then whispered loudly.

Rapunzel sighed. They had had this discussion a lot, these last months. She agreed that some weird stuff was going on around the caravan, but a ghost? She had met a ghost, and Ruth hadn't exactly been invisible - Rapunzel was pretty sure no ghosts were inhabiting the caravan right now. They would notice.

"What happened?" she still asked, feeling bad about not giving Lance enough credit. She may be sad, but it was no reason to take it out on her friends.

"You know the night table I told you about this morning?"

"The one Shorty broke?"

"Yeah well, it's not broken anymore!" Lance exclaimed, moving his arms wildly. "Something fixed it, and I'm willing to bet that it's…" he interrupted himself, before quieting his voice. "It’s the ghost."

"Maybe Cass repaired it," Rapunzel tried, but was immediately shushed.

"No no no, stop using that flawed logic on me Princess. You know something has been going on!" Lance crossed his arms, fixing her with a hard glare when she made a face. "How do you explain all the stuff getting fixed without any of us doing it?"

"Someone is trying to be nice?"

"Yeah, and what about the mysterious force that helped us escape that bear two weeks ago? Or the one that stopped you from falling off the edge of a cliff?"

"... strong wind?" She could feel the grimace on her own face. Lance was unimpressed.

"And the notes? Do you have an explanation for those?"

Rapunzel did not have an explanation for the notes that kept popping up in the caravan. They were all pretty much the same: some unrecognisable scribble, often because the ink had run before drying and the word was smudged beyond recognition. With it, though the words differed, the message stayed pretty similar: "it's Matthews' fault". It has been a while since they left the House of Yesterday's Tomorrows, but his name still made everyone uneasy. And perhaps, the freakiest part about the whole experience was that these notes were written in their own handwriting, with none of them ever remembering doing that.

Most of these notes had been in Rapunzel's handwriting, but everyone had a turn. Though Cassandra had gone to search for food, Rapunzel knew she would agree with Lance on this. She had been the most worried about these notes, and what they meant for them - were they being possessed in order to write that? No one had any answer, Rapunzel least of all, and she knew everyone was waiting on her to figure it out.

Her shoulders slumped. The headache she had gotten rid of by taking care of Max made a nasty comeback. She didn't have enough energy to deal with these sorts of things, nowadays.

"Rapunzel…" Lance hesitated, before putting a warm hand on her shoulder. "I- We all know something has been bothering you lately. I didn’t mean... I guess the caravan can be a little haunted as long as nothing happens, right?" He laughed awkwardly at this, before softening again. "I hope you know that, whatever you're going through, we're all here for you."

It should have helped her. One of her best friends was offering her kindness and compassion, and she should- she should have felt comforted. But his hand was too warm and too big against her, his eyes not the right shade of brown, his voice too deep and… And she had no idea of who she was even comparing him to. Logic didn't matter, however, and the warmth she should have felt turned into dread, the pit in her stomach ever growing.

She was missing something. It didn't feel like she could ever know what.

"I- I'll go check on the table," she grinned nervously, escaping his gaze. "Look after Max and Pascal for me, okay?"

Before any of them could respond, she turned around and ran to the caravan. She was a coward, and she knew it, but she couldn't stand her own state anymore, and she would take the maybe-haunted caravan over feeling adrift and ungrateful any day. Lance deserved more than she felt able to give. When she entered the caravan, it looked exactly how she had left it, except for the light that had burned out. It wasn't dark enough that she couldn't see, however, so she didn't bother lighting it back up.

Slowly, she got closer to the table. This morning, she had seen how its foot was bent and nearly broken because Shorty had fallen on it. Now, the foot was straightened out and held in place by carefully applied tape, and the splinters had been smoothed out. It was good work. Nothing that someone would want to hide, especially not since they were all worried about possibly being haunted. Rapunzel sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time, this mystery just another weight on her shoulders.

Should she… simply try to ask the maybe-ghost if it wanted anything? Would it answer?

She went to sit in the extra bed this side of the caravan had, putting her head in her hands. Everything felt wrong. She felt wrong, the caravan felt wrong, Cassandra was still mad at her for burning her hand, Lance was feeling more and more isolated because he didn't really have a friend to talk to, and she was missing something, she knew she was, but she didn't know what and it was driving her crazy. A single piece of a puzzle she couldn't see, but without it, everything came crumbling down, and she was- she was exhausted.

Something warm brushed her hair. When she raised her head, nothing was here.

She hadn't noticed, but on the bed next to her was a book. She picked it up curiously, not sure about who had packed it. The spine was worn out, and the colours on the cover had faded, signs that this was a beloved and often consulted book - and yet, Rapunzel had no memory of ever seeing it. Was it Lance's? She doubted it was Shorty’s. Despite the wear, the title, which was nowadays a dull golden colour, but must have shone at some point, was still clearly visible: The Tales of Flynnigan Rider.

Carefully, Rapunzel opened it, browsing the pages without truly reading. She didn't remember from where, but she recognised these stories as if they were old friends and, for the first time in what felt like forever, her heart fluttered and something not unlike happiness made a smile appear on her lips. Somehow, she knew these adventures by heart, and even though she was skimming through the book, she could nearly hear them be told by a voice she didn't recognise. It was a beautiful voice, its intonations feeling like sunlight and laughter to Rapunzel.

There was a weight beside her. Her eyes left the book and met Eugene’s, his gaze soft and somewhat sad - until he saw that she was looking at him, and his face turned into one of surprise.

"Sunshine?" he whispered faintly.

"Eugene," she exhaled, heart beating loudly in her chest because- because everything made sense, now, and nothing did, because it was Eugene she was missing but how- How could she have forgotten, how could they all have-

"Rapunzel," Eugene repeated, taking her hands in his trembling ones, as if he had guessed she was trying to get up. "Rapunzel, I-"

"What’s going on? Why did I forget you, why can’t I see you?" she babbled desperately, getting up anyway as Eugene followed her movement. "I knew something was wrong, I knew- But I couldn’t remember, why couldn’t I-"

"Sunshine, please." His interruption sounded so much like pleading, his voice more fragile than she had ever heard it - she bit her next panicked words back, and held his hands tighter. "This never lasts long, so… Please, can we, uh, talk?"

His hands were still shaky. Hers were too. Her eyes were burning with tears born out of fear and helplessness, and his were shining too as he took in her appearance. This never lasts long, he said, an acceptance she couldn't understand in his tone. He cupped her cheek tenderly, brushing her hair out of her face slowly.

"I miss you so much," he laughed, his voice breaking, and it was too much for her to take - her tears fell, and he brushed them away too, the weight of his thumb familiar against her skin.

She remembered the warmth that sometimes made itself known during these last weeks - the sensations that made her feel better during a breakdown, when she thought she was alone. She thought about the multiple objects that were carefully fixed, she thought about the extra bed in the boys' side she didn’t question, she thought about the harsh way she was tugged away from a cliff, when nothing and no one was here to do it. She thought about the growing number of notes she had discarded, about her happiness that had seemingly disappeared for no reason months ago.

"It was you," she broke, putting her head on the crook of his neck in a desperate attempt to get him closer and never let go. "You’re the- the ghost, you… You…"

Eugene hugged her back tightly. "The least I could do was protect you guys. It’s not because you don’t see me that I’m going to let you all get hurt when I can do something about it." He chuckled, but it sounded as empty as she felt before remembering him.

"How long- Since Matthews?" she asked, thinking back on the notes - and suddenly, it wasn’t hopelessness but hatred behind her tears, icy anger growing into her heart and making her tremble. It has… It has been months, since they left Matthews. Months that Eugene had to live like this. "He did that to you?"

"Let’s say the guy was full of surprises. The thing about being able to make people forget stuff was way more serious than I thought," Eugene joked, always the first to make light of his situation, but Rapunzel couldn’t.

"I need- I need to remember this," she muttered, letting go of one of his hands as she reached for her journal in her bag.

"Blondie…"

"I’ll write your name, and what happened, and I’ll- I’ll fix this, Eugene, I promise," she insisted.

There was something so terribly wrong about the soft resignation of his face. He nodded, but Rapunzel felt sick, because she could see he didn’t believe she would succeed. And how could he, when she had failed him so thoroughly, forgetting the love of her life even though he was the only thing bringing light into her days. She didn’t want to go back to the lifeless and choking sadness of these last months. She didn’t want to feel cold, and lost, and alone again, because she was missing one of the most important person in her life. But more than that, more than the selfish desperation making her hang onto him, she didn’t want Eugene to go back to this terrifying loneliness, invisible to all, forgotten by all. She didn’t want him to risk his life for them, she didn’t want him to believe no one loved him, and she was terrified that- that he would get hurt, and no one would know. No one would care, not even him.

She wouldn’t know. She wouldn’t care. If she forgot again, she- She…

"Come on," she muttered, grabbing blindly for a pen because she refused to let go of him, be it with her hand or with her eyes. She put her journal on the bed; it was closer than the table. "Here, wait, I’ll- I’ll write it." She scribbled his name quickly, as he silently held her hand. She felt as if he was trying to comfort her, and it was all wrong, because he was the one that needed to be saved, not her.

"Don’t forget to take care of yourself," Eugene said gently, and she could feel her eyes blur with tears again, as she finished her message.

"Don’t do that," she begged, meeting his gaze again. He looked about to cry too. "Don’t say goodbye, I… I’ll save you, I swear, please don’t- don’t-"

"I love you, Sunshine," he said anyway, and before she could protest, he kissed her, his lips soft and warm and oh so familiar against hers. She kissed back harshly, desperate to make him understand how much she loved him, how much she had missed him without even knowing, how much he meant to her - things that could never be put into words correctly.

The pen she had used rolled off the bed when Eugene took a step back and his legs pressed on the edge of the mattress. She opened her eyes when it hit the ground, startled.

When had she stood up?

Her lips were tingling, and Rapunzel touched them softly, a little lost. She felt better than when she had rushed in the caravan - maybe she had simply needed a little time alone. She picked the pen from the ground, noticing her journal being wide open on the bed, next to the novel she had been more or less reading. Carefully, she picked it up too, and noticed the messily written words in one of the pages. It was her handwriting, there was no doubt about it, but she couldn't remember ever writing this - and she was pretty sure she wouldn't have ruined one of the pages of her journal for something like this.

"Save…," she read aloud, cocking her head at the unrecognisable word next to it. The first letter seemed to be an F, or an E, but she couldn't be sure, because ink was covering it nearly entirely. "Save E., Matthews made us forget?" she finished uncertainly.

Huh. It was another one of those notes. Maybe Lance was right about the caravan being haunted, and whoever was that ghost, it had a bone to pick with Matthews.

Well, sadly for the ghost, Matthews was gone, and Rapunzel had no desire to go search for him. Already, she could feel the weight that had left her momentarily come back, a loneliness she couldn't shake taking hold of her once again. She was too tired to investigate this mystery - if there was a ghost, it would have to reveal itself and its intentions because she wasn't going to play this game.

Before leaving, she picked up The Tales of Flynnigan Rider too, and decided to take it in her side of the caravan. It was the only thing that made her feel happy in months, and whoever had brought it along could ask her if they wanted it back.

As she held the book, Rapunzel thought she felt something warm brush against her hand, but there was nothing here. She left the room without a second look.

[graveyardollie]

Dying Angel - Awakening Demon Chapter 1

This is my first fanfiction ever that is written in English and I’m actually really nervous to post it but here it is! I started to write it without no idea what will it be about. I only had one specific moment I wanted to write about and it turned out to be a few thousand words story! I really hope I didn’t make many mistakes! It’s really just for fun. Anyway, enjoy <3 

Chapter trigger warnings: Cursing, mention of injury, blood, car accident, angst, naked body, forests, anxiety, serious body injuries, suicidal thoughts, self-deprecating thoughts, thoughts of never being good enough, mentions of torture (Tell me if I need to add more <3) 

Ao3 link

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Virgil hated being alive. I mean, he liked it at first. His first breath. His first feeling of him touching the skin. Then it hit him. The headache of laying too long on the hard ground. The coldness. Where was he? Virgil looked around. It seemed like he found himself in the forest. Although how did he get here remained a mystery. Anxiety grew in his stomach. As long as he can remember, he was not allowed to go down to earth. It was strictly forbidden. Has he fallen? Is this some kind of test to see if he’s loyal enough? He couldn’t quite tell. He never felt like an angel. He never felt like a demon. He never actually tried to be a human. All he ever wanted was to be happy and to be himself. But first things first, he needed to get out of wherever he was.

****

“Roman, why on earth would you want to go to that creepy forest again? I thought we agreed, nothing that’s there is worth giving up your life, no matter what sort of mysteries to solve there may be.” Patton did not like the idea of Roman going to the forest alone. Not after what happened to them last time. Besides, rumors of weird stuff happening there, especially after the dark were something to look out for. He rathered to just drink some cinnamon tea and work on their research in the comfort of their house. “I know Patton. The last time we went there...well, it did not end very well. But you need to understand, no one ever trusted me this much than the mayor of this city. He asked me. Me! To discover what is going on in this weird forest. You almost lost your leg, Patton! People are dying and found in there! And I need to know why. I- We..can be heroes of this story.” Patton hated when Roman was getting emotional like this. He wished his brother would realize that he already is a hero. He helped others so much. He was like a knight on a white horse. If Remus was still alive, he would probably agree. He would also agree that there was little to no chance of stopping Roman from going. Patton sighed very deeply and then stood up with a little yelp of pain. Roman tried to help him, but he denied his well-meaning gesture. “Then I’m going with you.”

“What?! Patton, you are barely able to stand on your own. I can’t let you get hurt again.” Roman said with visible concern on his face. “I am going with you, or you and I both, are staying here. I will not go to the forest, but wait for you in the car, okay? I prefer being not too far away just in case you may need my help. Please?” Roman knew this was a bad idea. He had no heart to say it, but in this state, Patton was nothing but another pray to whatever is hiding in that forest. If Roman really needed some help, they both will end up dead. But Roman knew there wasn’t anything he could say to convince Patton to stay home. So he agreed.

****

Virgil didn’t know where he was going. West? South? He couldn’t tell. It was way too dark to see anything. He was so cold. All he had with him were some boxers and a little blanket to cover himself. Although it was so thin it didn’t really make any difference. He didn’t miss home. But he also wished he wasn’t in this terrible place. What did he do to deserve this fate? One day you’re an angel with beautiful wings, you feel like nothing and no one can stop you. Until you realize that someone actually can and will tear you down. And then you end up in some fucking forest, without your wings, half-naked and without any idea where to go. Then all of a sudden texture of the ground changed. It was even harder than the other one. What was it? Virgil looked closer. Some weird white lines were painted on it. Then...the light. Has he been forgiven? The light came closer. Too close- Virgil was flying. And then he hit the ground again. He saw something red coming out of him. He felt...pain. What the fuck? He sat on the ground and the whole world started to spin around him. He tried to stand back up. Nope. Too much effort right now. He couldn’t breathe. Too much pain. Too many thoughts. Too much light. Everything was just too much. He heard some voices. Virgil tried to focus. He noticed someone. He was screaming something to someone else. Or...was he yelling at him? Rude.

“Hey, can you hear me? Hello? Shit, shit, shit. Patton, stay in the car, I’ll- shit- I’ll handle this! Please, don’t fall asleep. That’s literally the worse thing you can do. Stay with me okay? What’s your name? Can you tell me why you’re here? Did someone kidnap you? Hello?” Roman was panicking. Of course, he was! Someone finally trusted him enough to solve a mystery on his own and now he’ll end up in jail! What kind of fame is this?! And this poor person. He needs to get them out of here to the nearest hospital as quick as possible. The thing is, the nearest hospital is almost 2 hours from here. They will not make it on time. They’ll die before they’ll get there. Gosh. He messed up everything once again! He’s such a burden to this world...and now- The mysterious human made some full of pain noise. This was enough for Roman to stop his train of thoughts and actually do something. He picked them up and put them very gently in the back of the car. “Will they be okay?” asked Patton with a voice filled with fear. Roman bit his lip. “Yes. I’ll make sure of it.”

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 

[stillsearchingforsomething]

If I could dance with you again

December 2014 

TW - panic attack - don’t listen to Dancing With Our Hands Tied whilst reading

Taylor honestly didn't think this day could get any worse. She had woken up with a splitting headache and a mouth that felt like she had swallowed cotton balls and several missed calls from Tree. She had spent the morning pacing her living room with her phone glued to her ear whilst she and Tree had discussed how they were going to handle this.

Karlie had thought that Taylor might have wanted some space to hash things out with Tree without her hovering but Taylor had taken one look at the overnight bag Karlie had packed and had asked her to stay with wide, panicked eyes. So Karlie had busied herself with tidying up the debris from their late night and trying to get Taylor to eat and drink something.

Taylor's phone dings and she opens a message from Tree with next week's People cover of her and Karlie staring up at her and the breath is knocked out of her. When she turns back she can see Karlie’s mouth move as she asks her if she’s okay but Taylor can’t hear her, suddenly can’t hear anything but the sound of blood rushing in her ears, drowning out everything and making her feel like she’s underwater.

She feels dread grip her, like a tight hand wrapped around her throat and she’s having trouble breathing, the corners of her vision going spotty. Her first instinct is to run and she stumbles briefly before finding her footing, her phone slipping from her hand and falling to the hardwood floor. She’s not sure how it happens but she’s in the downstairs bathroom and she still feels like something is trying to choke the life out of her and she barely makes it to the toilet before throwing up.

She’s not sure how long she’s there for but it can’t be long because suddenly there are fingers in her hair, brushing strands away from her clammy forehead and Taylor burns with shame and embarrassment as she throws up, when she realises that it’s Karlie on the floor behind her smoothing back her hair.

She’s barely aware of Karlie shifting her so she’s sitting right behind her but when her throwing up slows, Taylor’s infinitely grateful for the tissue handed to her as she wipes her mouth and that she leans back to find Karlie’s body there, a loose arm wrapped around her middle.

The world is still eerily silent as her heart beats a mile a minute in her chest but at least she no longer feels like the breath is being choked out of her even if the strong sense of dread is hard to shake.

Karlie’s hold on her is light but her fingers softly stroke along Taylor’s back and she finds herself focusing more and more on the small, gentle touch, Karlie’s hands warm and grounding through the thin material of her shirt.

She twists in the embrace and Karlie pulls her closer, cradles Taylor’s head against her and Taylor can tell that she’s talking, can feel the rumble of Karlie’s voice where her forehead is pressed against Karlie’s neck and she tries to focus on that, tries to calm the loud rush of blood in her ears.

Taylor concentrates on the hum of Karlie’s voice, and she knows she’s silently crying but slowly, steadily, sound starts filtering in.

“Listen to my voice, baby,” Karlie says and Taylor barely hears it but she frowns as she tries to focus really hard, works on concentrating on the sound of Karlie’s voice and her hearing slowly returns, Karlie’s soft voice loud in her ears because of her proximity and Taylor frowns against Karlie’s neck when she finally figures out that Karlie is telling her a made-up story about the cats.

Karlie feels Taylor's breathing begin to slow and she presses her lips to Taylor's forehead in a quick, reassuring kiss.

“Keep talking,” Taylor whispers so Karlie continues and Taylor carefully follows the story, notices her tears slowing. Karlie is warm and solid and Taylor feels safe wrapped in her arms on the bathroom floor. Taylor curls even further into her as she steals Karlie’s body heat, feeling the cold seep out of her skin, her body no longer shaking as violently as it had been before.

“I’ve got you, Taylor,” Karlie softly whispers, interrupting her own story, shifting them so she can lean back against the wall and fully take Taylor onto her lap, wrapping her arms around the blonde and holding her tightly. 

“You’re okay, we’re okay, everything is gonna be ok” Karlie coos, fingers brushing rogue locks of hair from Taylor’s forehead, her hand trailing down the side of her face to cradle her jaw.  

“I’m sorry, I—” Taylor starts to say, tears springing to her eyes again but Karlie’s fingers stroke along her cheek and tilt Taylor’s head, urging her to face Karlie.

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Karlie says strongly, but her expression is soft, eyes sympathetic and worried and Taylor wipes angrily at her tears, hating that she always cries during her panic attacks. 

“Do you want to take something?” Karlie offers carefully, knowing that Taylor doesn’t like to take her medication unless it’s absolutely necessary, but Taylor shakes her head and she pulls back a little to hone in on Karlie’s reassuring smile. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay,” Taylor says in a small voice and even though she’s not, saying it out loud helps and they both know it. 

“What are we gonna do?” she pleads, suddenly remembering the reason they’re on their bathroom floor.

“I don’t know,” Karlie says, cradling Taylor’s face in her hands and brushing away the last of her tears. “But we don’t have to worry about that right now.”

Taylor’s starting to tremble again and Karlie is immediately concerned with stopping that so she strokes her fingers against Taylor’s skin.

“Look at me, baby.” Taylor looks wild when wet eyes meet Karlie’s and Karlie smiles tenderly, leans in to press her lips to Taylor’s forehead in a lingering kiss. 

“You’re safe, you’re ok, I’ve got you.”

The fist that Taylor has tightly curled into Karlie’s sweater loosens somewhat as Taylor slumps back against Karlie. “I’m so tired.”

Karlie feels Taylor’s tears against her skin, knows they’re more out of frustration than anything so she twists her head to kiss the side of Taylor’s head.

“Your mom told me I need to ask you dumb things and I need to get you to make lists,” Karlie whispers, running her hand up and down Taylor’s back. 

Taylor frowns at Karlie’s words, knows she hadn’t been in the bathroom alone long enough for Karlie to call her mom but she can’t quite muster up the brain power needed to focus on how Karlie knows that, especially when Karlie keeps talking.  

“Can you name you name ten of your favourite things?” Karlie repeats and Taylor takes a deep breath and holds it. She closes her eyes to concentrate, she could do that.

“The kitties,” Taylor says softly.

“Of course, what kind of mother would you be if they weren't on the list,” Karlie comments, her hand softly rubbing Taylor’s back. “What else?” 

“My mom’s mac & cheese.”

“Oh yeah.”

“My guitar.”

“Duh.”

“Scented candles… vinyl records… Christmas lights…” 

“All good choices,” Karlie nods and when Taylor turns her face into Karlie’s neck, Karlie knows she’s almost entirely grounded again and Karlie’s concern over Taylor’s state lowers considerably.

“What else?”

“Your smile,” Taylor mumbles, fingers drumming against Karlie’s side where her hand is curled around a hip and Karlie pulls away enough to shoot Taylor a brilliant smile at that answer. Taylor wants to say something smart or quippy but Karlie’s wide smile is blinding and even though she’s so tired, Taylor can’t help but bask in the warmth of Karlie’s smile. “Yeah, that one.”

“Three more,” Karlie urges, feeling Taylor relax against her.

“Hm?”

“Ten favourite things, the kitties, your Mom’s Mac & cheese, vinyl records, scented candles, your guitar, Christmas lights and my smile, that’s seven. Three more.”

“Painting.” 

“Mhm-hmm.”

“Baking with you.”

“Very good choice.”

“Wine.”

Karlie’s smile twitches with amusement but then Taylor pulls away to look at her and Karlie’s smile softens.

“There’s my girl,” Karlie says, softly kissing Taylor’s forehead. “Do you want to go back to bed and take a nap with me?” Karlie asks, knowing how much a panic attack takes it out of Taylor.  

Taylor nods and then Karlie gently urges her off her lap, stands up and extends a hand to Taylor. The woman is still shaky but she pulls herself up with the help of Karlie’s hand, and allows Karlie to lead her out of the bathroom and upstairs to their bedroom. Karlie helps Taylor back into her pyjamas and coaxes her to brush her teeth before she gets Taylor situated under the covers and she settles in bed beside her.

Taylor wakes up from her nap feeling well-rested and warm and when she rolls onto her back, she finds Karlie staring down at her with a smile.

“Hi there sleeping beauty,” Karlie says and Taylor smiles at the nickname. 

“What time is it?”

“Almost three. You were out for about four hours,” Karlie explains, shifting so she can lay down and face Taylor. “How do you feel?”

“A lot better,” Taylor says, cuddling up to Karlie and closing her eyes with a small sigh. 

“I knew the nap would do you good,” Karlie says with a soft chuckle, leaning in and kissing Taylor’s temple, lips lingering.

Something about her words gives Taylor pause, her brain connecting loose sentences together and she suddenly remembers Karlie mentioning her mom earlier.

“When did you talk to my mom?” 

“Hm?” Karlie hums, not following.

“You said you talked to my mom about what to do,” Taylor explains in a hushed voice. “When did that conversation happen?”

“After we'd been dating for like a month,” Karlie says.

“So, like April?”

“No, before that,” Karlie corrects.

“When?” Taylor asks in confusion.

“I talked to her after you brought me to her birthday party,” Karlie explains.

“Um, we weren't dating then,” Taylor says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh, yeah we were.”

“I’m not counting us hanging out as dating,” Taylor argues.

“I’m not either,” Karlie gives. “I count you and me doing stuff together just us.”

“Yeah,” Taylor says.

“So our first date was after the VS show,” Karlie points out.

“What?” Taylor says, reeling back a bit. “No it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was,” Karlie argues.

“That doesn’t count, everyone was at the after-party.”

“No, not the after-party, the bar that we went to after that. We were there just the two of us, we had fun, and I kissed you.”

“You kissed me on the cheek!” Taylor replies, outraged.  

“Still counts,” Karlie maintains.

“I can’t believe that’s when you think we started dating,” Taylor mutters under her breath but she’s pressed so close to Karlie that she knows she hears her.

“I know that’s when we started dating,” Karlie argues.  

“We need to figure out our anniversary,” Taylor says suddenly and Karlie smiles at Taylor’s attempt to detour from an argument she’s clearly losing.

“There are so many options, do we go with when we first met? First kiss? First date?” Karlie jokes, dragging her fingers down Taylor’s back.

“Why did you talk to my mom about my panic attacks?” Taylor asks softly and Karlie almost gets whiplash from the turns this conversation is taking but she recovers quickly.

“I wanted to know what I could do to help you if it ever happened when I was with you,” Karlie explains with a bashful shrug.

“Karlie…” Taylor breathes, not sure how to phrase her immense gratitude but when Karlie looks at her, she blushes softly, recognising Taylor’s reverent expression for what it is. “I love you so much, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Karlie says with a lopsided smile. “I love you too.”

“We’re gonna be ok right?” Taylor asks in a small voice and Karlie can see the panic from before in her eyes. Taylor knows that she and Karlie had discussed all the possible ways that they could play this with Tree in detail, from issuing a casual denial and some public distance to full on bearding contracts. Karlie had assured Taylor that she would go along with whatever Taylor thought was best but Taylor knows from experience you can be ok with these things in theory but it’s a lot more difficult when it’s really happening. She knows the toll that constant speculation and fake relationships can take on your real relationship all too well and she hates the thought of putting Karlie through that. But when Karlie leans in and kisses her softly and tells her that she loves her and promises that she’s not going anywhere, Taylor can’t help but believe her.

I meant to have this up a couple of weeks ago but then Ms Swift went ahead and dropped another surprise album,  already have a few evermore ideas floating around - let me know what you think, comments make me smile.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Off on a nautical adventure!

We're sailing the Stone Glass Seas, exploring uncharted territory and enjoying the breeze. Rocky and Chrissie are here with some friends to go on a sailing adventure where they happened to run into Gulliver. So they made a stop at the camp and invited us campers to tag along because the more, the merrier!

It feels like forever since Rocky went sailing, which seems surprising since that's his thing. But with him and Lex busy with Talia and now Kessa, sailing has taken kind of a backseat. Of course, Rocky showed us pics of baby Kessa - who is adorable - and Talia, who's walking and talking now. As for Rocky and Lex's wedding, they're aiming for next year - preferably before baby number three comes along, they joke.

Now that Rocky and Lex are out of the newborn stage and have fully adjusted to two babies, they finally have some time to themselves. Chrissie's been helping out a lot as well as serving as sort of a peacemaker between Rocky and their uncle. It's not that they don't get along, it's just that McMann's the old fashioned type so the fact that his bisexual nephew's in a relationship with an enby and they have two kids while unmarried is kinda hard for him to wrap his head around. He does like Lex though and is actively making an effort not to misgender them and such, so at least there's that.

Joining them is Emma with her nieces and nephew. Emma just made the move to Cityburg about a month ago to move in with her brother and his kids. Despite working her ass off for six years in college, Emma was down on her luck, forced to live off her parents. When they told her that they were gonna kick her out, Danny stepped in, which they weren't too happy about. The kids are all for it as Emma's the favorite (and only) aunt and Danny could really use the help.

Margie, Rusty, and Linda like having Emma around and she likes being with them. Danny's a nightclub entertainer at the Cocktail Cabana who occasionally travels so he's not home all the time. Things haven't been easy since his husband and eldest daughter passed away last year, forcing Margie to take over as caretaker as well as housekeeper. While Emma and Margie have always gotten along like sisters, there has been some undercurrents as to who runs things around the house.

When the twins invited Emma to go sailing, she suggested bringing the kids along since Danny will be traveling that week and the kids are off from school. Emma also hopes to work things out with Margie, who she thinks has forgotten how to be a teenager. Now that we've been out on the sea for a couple days, I can see what she means. We all feel bad for Margie as she was forced to grow up quickly and as a result, she also became protective of her family.

Rusty and Linda are up to their own mischievous ways as usual, always keeping Emma and Margie on their toes. Sherry's presence is sorely missed - she was more than just Margie's partner in crime, she was also the ringleader of the Amos-Thomas siblings. A part of me had hoped that Sherry would make a miraculous recovery, but as time went on, all hopes of that diminished.

On a side note, Sherry would've turned sixteen last week - and the month before would've been Terry's birthday. So that's another reason why Emma decided to take the kids along - to give them a distraction so they won't be at each other's throats. And it's definitely been helping, especially for Rusty and Linda, who are having a great time right now. I think it's working for Emma and Margie too - or at least Emma can talk to her without feeling like she's walking on eggshells. I hope things work out for them.

While on our way to Wavy Shores, we ran into Gulliver, making his round trips as usual. Along with the usual treats he brings back, he also has some passengers tagging along. Through his travels, Gulliver often runs into villagers - most who I've never met before - and sometimes they join him on his voyage, later joining us at the camp. I'm pretty sure Gulliver talks up about the camp but I'm not complaining - the more, the merrier! So not only we got treats and maps, but also new friends to look forward to when we get back.

Wavy Shores definitely lives up to its name. Dixie first came across this place by accident and became mesmerized by the landscape. Given her stories about the shores, Rocky had to see it for himself. In fact, a good number of the places on the itinerary - aside from uncharted territory we plan on exploring - were places Dixie have been to. Rocky's been living the dream spending a lot of time with Dixie as she's basically a role model for him, the one who taught him how to sail. It's cute seeing his eyes light up whenever he talks about Dixie!

Everything in Wavy Shores is, well, wavy. Even the sky looks like a blend of wavy colors, contrasting with the sand dunes, the rocks, and the deep blue sea. It's so fascinating to look at - nature is amazing!

To the southwest is Polka Dot Leaf, a floating island known for its coral castle ruins. The exact location is a bit tricky to pinpoint because the island tends to shift due to the rough waters. We lucked out as around this time of year the seas are much calmer so it's all smooth sailing from there - I'd hate to get stuck in the middle of a storm.

The reason why it's called Polka Dot Leaf is because from above that's what the island looks like. It's one of those places that nature is slowly reclaiming, overgrown with seaweed brambles and seabloom blossoms. Walking into a coral castle ruin feels surreal, like I'm expecting the room to transform into another world.

What happened to the island's inhabitants remain a mystery, which adds to the appeal and mystique. Bedrooms with unmade beds, a kitchen sink full of chipped dishes, a desk full of yellowed papers covered in scribbles, a basket of laundry waiting to be folded - all of that, frozen in time. So many untold stories left behind.

To the east lies Summer Grove, a rainforest that is home to many rare butterflies. I've never seen so many colorful butterflies at once! All those colors and shapes - it's amazing to witness! Not to mention how majestic the butterflies are, fluttering about against a sea of green. We also enjoyed the tropical fruits and swimming at the lagoon. The weather was incredibly warm, but not overly humid or hot - which I'm grateful for or else I wouldn't have been able to appreciate the scenery as much and that would be a huge shame.

Then north we went through the Pearl Breeze Current to the idyllic mountains of Quill. Sailing through the Pearl Breeze is no easy feat as the current can be quite tricky to navigate, especially if you're not an experienced sailor. We were on the edge of our seats in our life jackets, holding our breaths while Rocky braved the waters. It was rough, but we made it!

A couple hours later we made it to the mountains and checked into a hotel for a well deserved rest. It's a good thing we weren't too far from land because I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle being at sea after the ordeal with the Pearl Breeze. Aside from a bad headache, an early rest did the trick along with some aspirin and a cool wet cloth.

The next day we went hiking in the mountains, where we came across a cave full of paintings and little iridescent crystals. Exploring the cave was a lot of fun, especially for the kids. Margie and Chrissie put their Chickadee Scout skills to use by guiding us through the tunnels, leading us to an old fountain covered in gothic roses. At first we thought the fountain was broken, until Rusty noticed that the overgrown foliage had blocked something. After a lot of tugging and pulling, a huge burst of water came out, soaking all of us. It was like the fountain came to life, showering us with crystal clear water and gothic rose petals.

On the way back to the hotel we stopped by a shop to change into some dry clothes. Everything looked so nice that it was hard to choose what to wear! Lately I've been into muted neutrals and florals and the store just happened to cater to my interests. Eventually I settled on a dusky pink floral dress with a maroon cardigan and then splurged on a lacy white blouse paired with a brown floral skirt. And then after that we browsed some other shops before grabbing dinner and heading back to the hotel.

Westward bound we headed to Greenaway, an archipelago known for its rare and unusual gems. At the center of the island is the famous volcano, a marvelous sight to see according to many adventurers. Rocky and Chrissie's uncle visited there about thirty years ago, witnessing an eruption when the village he was staying at was forced to evacuate. Since then that part of the island has been abandoned, though as of last year part of the outskirts is no longer restricted to the public.

Chrissie was hoping to find the house McMann rented along with some stuff he had to leave behind. It was long shot, especially since most of the area's buried in volcanic ash, but we figured that it wouldn't hurt to take a look - as long as it's safe. So we did, and as expected, we couldn't get too far because the entire village's pretty much gone. But we were able to figure out the area where McMann stayed based on the lamppost that served as a landmark - one of the few things that wasn't entirely buried in ash or destroyed in the eruption. It's eerie, looking at the remains of what was once a busy place.

Now we're sailing north, to Sunstone Caves. According to Dixie, the island's a floating desert in the middle of nowhere. It's a long ride - at least three days - so we have to be prepared for anything. While out on sea, especially with no landmarks to spot or keep us on track, time can stretch and bend in unpredictable ways. Luckily we're well stocked with supplies and good company so that'll make the time go by smoothly.

Being out here surrounded by sea and sky, it makes me feel so small. Compared to the sea, I'm a tiny little speck floating about. There's so much of the world around me, so much that I don't know about - it's something that keeps me going. The fact that there's so much to see, to explore, to experience - sometimes you get lucky and suddenly all these far off places you've never dreamed of seeing are within your grasp.

[paodequeijofeliz-blog]

I would do it all again

Ride or Die Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Mona and MC (Annie)

Information: this takes place after the first book.

Summary: After what happened at the parking lot, each member of the crew tries to build a new life, following the “every man for himself” motto. But Annie doesn’t agree with that and tries to pull them back together, especially Mona, who she has been waiting for too many years.

Warnings: none.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I would do it all again - Part 5

      “There’s paint in your… Everything.” Annie started to giggle, herself also covered in dark blue paint. “Gee, Avery, I think you’re right. We’re gonna be blue for the rest of our lives. Like little Avatars.”

         “I told you!” the other girl laughed too, trying to clean the paint out of her face with a towel, but only made it spread even more. She was shorter than Annie, with puppy brown eyes and an adorable big smile. Didn’t look nothing like her uncle Dominick. “But worth it. Look at this room. It’s perfect.”

         They stopped to admire the results of their morning’s work for a few moments. After days watching tutorials online and searching for the right materials, the room was finally finished. Mona had confessed to Annie her wishes to turn it into some sort of studio, where she could draw or practice her guitar skills again. Of course, the last time the Lebanese did either of those was even before meeting Annie in the first place, so it could be hard to catch up again. But her eyes lightened so beautifully at the idea, the girl couldn’t wait to have the room ready for Mona to start.

         That’s why backup was required, and who better than Avery? It was about time for Mona to meet her anyway, especially now that she had just returned from Italy after a family visit.

         “Do you think we have time to clean up before they arrive?” Annie peeked over the window, but there was no car to be seem in any side of the road.

         “Yeah, I think so. Let me call my uncle and check if he can hold back longer.”

         Dominick picked up the phone immediately, mumbling and pretending it was a work call. Between codes, he was able to reassure them it would take a while to get home, maybe an hour. That was the right amount of time for both girls to clean the room and themselves. When the car finally parked outside, Annie was brushing her wet hair while Avery finished putting the paint cans away in the mess room.

Mona’s voice was audible in the distance.

         “… never trust ‘em. Those supposedly safe economical cars are always a headache, they don’t survive a single storm on the road. If you gotta change cars, go for something with higher resistance, especially you who need to ride through this bumpy road every day.” The door was opened to reveal both Mona and Dominick carrying grocery bags inside. “Hey, babe. How are… What did you do?”

         The Lebanese narrowed her eyes, scanning the room for something dangerous. She knew that look on Annie’s face meant trouble.

“Nothing. Why?” the girl tried to put on an angelic smile.

         “You’re jumping in the same place. Why are you so excited? Should I be worried?”

         Avery popped her head from the hallway before Annie could answer the question. “Hi, everyone.”

         “Oh hey, cookie! Come here. Let me introduce you. Calil, this is Avery, my niece.” Dominick held the brunette girl from her shoulders, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Cookie, this is Malika Calil. Or Mona.”

         “Or boss” Annie added, teasing.

         “Nice to meet you” Avery answered after a brief laugh. “It’s good to finally put a face to your name.”

         “Same here.” Although Mona wasn’t normally friendly, she got very fond of Avery. “So, what did you two do today to make Annie look like she’s about to shoot fireworks from her ass?”

         The teacher rolled her eyes, still too damn energic to stay still. “Ok, ok. C’mon. Avery helped me to do a surprise for you.”

         “Uh-oh.”

         “Don’t uh-oh. It’s a nice surprise, promise. Or I hope so, at least. If you hate it, we can change everything. No worries. It’s reversable. Most of it.”

         “Stop explaining, Ann.” Avery put a hand on her forearm, trying to prevent her friend from jabbing. “Just show her. Trust your guts. Be confident.”

         Mona arched her eyebrows in surprise. “I liker your attitude.”

         “Alright, c’mon. Close your eyes.” Annie held both the woman’s wrists and started to guide her in the right direction. “Wait. Not yet. Not yet. And… Okay, now. Open it.”

         Those dark eyes started to open slowly, a little bit afraid of what Annie had done, but then widened at the sight of the room. “Oh. My.”

         Mona was startled. Her soon-to-be studio had two of it’s walls painted in a dark shade of blue, with tiny sprinkles of silver that made it look like the night sky. The sprinkles would get bigger as it reached the ceiling, forming stars and constellations on it. The other two walls remained white, one of them with a huge drawing table by the window, favouring the natural light. The other, though, as soon as Mona approached, appeared not to be a simple white, but a paintable kind, like a white board where the Lebanese could write and erase anything as it pleases.

         It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

         “You said you’re a creature of the night. That the night sky inspires you. So… I… I hope it’s good. Like I said, we can change it, paint from scratch again, no problem. The important is for you to be comfortable here.” Annie hesitated, trying to work on her confidence like Avery suggested, but Mona was awfully quiet, and they couldn’t see her face, since she had the back turned.

         “Uhm… I’ll make some coffee. Help me, cookie?” Dominick pulled his niece gently by the elbow, closing the door behind them to leave the couple alone.

         Silence continued afterwards.

       Annie was slowly getting more and more terrified, especially when noticed Mona’s closed fists. She approached her carefully, hands lifting, but too afraid to touch. Mouth opened, but no word could be formed. Has she gone too far? Was the woman mad because the room was painted without her? Annie thought she had been so careful to listen to the signs, make a good choice…

      “Mon… I’m sor…” 

      “I love you.”

      When Mona turned around, there were tears in her eyes. The last time Annie remembered seeing her cry was six years ago, after the shooting, when they said goodbye to each other between blood and promises. Today, it was different. The woman wasn’t sad. Her black eyes were glowing with a sweet form of love, this time no longer afraid of cops breaking them apart. Fists still clenched, posture tense, but a warm expression. It was like her body didn’t match her heart at all… Like it was fighting against it’s own feelings.

        Annie approached her, breath caught on the throat, a sheepish smile emerging. Without sudden movements, she held Mona’s fists and brushed them with her thumbs, causing it to relax and slowly given up on the fight, obeying the heart’s commands. The girl only stopped when they were inches apart, diving in those beautiful Lebanese eyes like jumping in the night sky with no parachutes on. Their fingers intertwined at the same time Mona’s posture eased a bit, leaning in for a tender kiss that made Annie melt down in her arms.

     “I love you too.” Whispered Ann, eyes closed and foreheads together. “Did I hurt you somehow? Did I…?”

     “You could never hurt me. Not even if you wanted to.” Mona opened her eyes again, causing the girl to do the same. “I’m sorry I frightened you, I’m not mad or upset, far from that. I’m… It’s just… No one has ever done things like this for me before, Ann. I know this room is nothing compared to the other huge sacrifices and battles you have been fighting for so long, but it hit me hard. It’s so personal. So perfect. It’s not only safe, or careful, or well-planned, it’s also me. The real me. Like you can read me through and through. I don’t think anyone ever got so deep.”

       “I know you hate to talk about this kind of stuff. But I hope it’s already clear that I’m not standing here just ‘cause you’re hot and funny, although those are qualities worth mentioning, might I add.” Mona couldn’t stop smiling mischievously over that observation. “I’m not playing around or seeing where it goes, Mon. I worry about you. I want you to feel comfortable and free to be yourself again. Even if ‘yourself’ means not sharing the silly-feelings talk you dislike. I love you the way you are. I’m all in, babe. Head over heels. Sorry if it scares you, but that’s the truth. Deal with it. And my love comes with things like these surprises attached.”

       Annie gulped, afraid her statement had been too straightforward, but Mona didn’t back up, tense or hesitate at all. On the contrary, her arms involved the girl’s waist, bringing her closer into a not-so-tender kiss. It tasted like fire and sweetness at the same time, the type of kiss that could make someone falter between rip their clothes off or shout “I love you”. She didn’t know how much time that continued, since her full attention was captured by Mona’s lips and hands, until finally they ran out of breath and needed to break it for a second.

     “Man, I’ll repaint the entire house if it leads you to kiss me like that” Annie chuckled, hands entangled on the back of the woman’s neck.

      “Are you complaining I don’t kiss you passionately on a regular basis?” Mona arched her eyebrows, turning around to press the girl against the door, one leg between hers. “Well, let’s see what we can do to solve it…”

      Annie felt the air escape her lungs; knees so weak she would have fallen on the ground if it wasn’t for those tattooed arms sustaining her body. “Don’t tease me, we have guests waiting for us in the kitchen.”

      Mona growled, placing a last bite on the girl’s neck before finally releasing her. The way she trembled forward, still shaken up, made the Lebanese open a cocky smile. “My, my. Have I taken your strength so fast? I barely touched you yet.”

       “You know…” Ann held herself on the door handle, eyes locked with the woman in front of her. “It’s the ‘yet’ part that’s almost causing me a freakin’ heart attack right now.”

       Avery’s voice came from across the apartment. It smelled like fresh coffee even from the hallway. As Annie went to the kitchen to take a mug, she saw Mona’s phone lighting up on the balcony. Some random number was calling. “Mon, you’re phone’s ringing.”

      “She’s in the bathroom.” Dom was resting against the back of the chair, a half-empty package of biscuits on his lap. “You should answer, it could be her parole agent checking in.”

     The girl nodded, cleaning her throat before picking up the phone. “Hello. Can I help you?”

      A woman’s voice came from the other side of the line. “…Oh, yes. Hello. I am looking for Malika.”

     “She’ll be here in a minute. Who’s this?”

     “I am a… Childhood… Friend. We used to be very close. My name is Ada.”

     “Hm, I don’t remember your name, but Mon doesn’t talk a lot about her childhood.”

      “I see. And you are?”

     “Oh, sorry. Annie. I’m her girlfriend.”

     “…I can say I have been looking forward to meeting you. I’ve heard a lot about your story.”

     “Aww, that’s sweet, thanks. Hey, she’s here. Just a sec. Babe, it’s a friend of yours.” Annie offered the phone to Mona, watching her frown in confusion.

     “A friend of mine? Who?”

      “Ada.” She gave her girlfriend a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to sit by the balcony, never catching how Mona’s eyes widened.

      “Hi” the Lebanese said, her heart pounding against the chest.

      “Hi to you, baby girl. Guess who else got out on parole too?”

      For just a moment, Mona felt like her whole world was about to fall apart again.

[thecoleopterawithana]

Paul McCartney by Paul Gambaccini [Excerpt]

For RollingStone. 30 March 1979

There are still little legal hassles to this day, aren’t there?

Not legal hassles. What happened is that when we were the Beatles, instead of setting us all up legally as individuals, everyone set us up as a partnership. So when we wanted to split up I just naively thought, “Well, I’ll take my ball and go. I’ll just have my bit, and we’ll call it a day.” But we found that you couldn’t just take your little ball and go because of millions of legal reasons. So it’s now ten years since we started the whole thing, and you wouldn’t believe what we’ve been through. You just wouldn’t.

How much of this is because of being young and naive when you originally signed your contracts, and how much of it is because of disagreements within the group?

Well, I think I was young and naive about all of that until the Beatles broke up. It was just, “Well, we all know nobody will screw each other. We all pretty much know each other. We’ll all do it okay.” It’s just disagreements within the group because, as I say, all contracts that were signed could have broken up quite easily. I would be happy to do a deal that’s going now. Just so that we don’t have that hanging over our heads and can just say hello again without having to say, “Hello, and by the way, Apple requires you to sign this.”

Have you been following the trial of Allen Klein? [The Beatles’ short-term mentor after the death of Brian Epstein, Klein was convicted this year on one count of income-tax evasion for failing to declare a “substantial” amount of cash obtained in 1970 by selling promotional copies of Beatles albums, He was to be sentenced June 18th and faced up to three years in prison and a maximum fine of $5000.]

No, I just started reading about it the other day. I feel sorry for him now. I was caught in his net once, and that panicked me. I really wanted to do everything to get him. I was contemplating going to where he lives and walking outside his house with placards, doing all that. I was really that crazy at the time. I would have done anything to get out of it, but it all turned out okay.

Do you now regret selling the publishing rights to the Beatles songs?

I don’t now because I own some of my new stuff totally, and my company is into publishing. So I don’t mind, but it’s funny to think somebody owns “Yesterday” and that it’s only to do with me as far as the royalties are concerned. It’s funny to think of some of the things that went down. In fact, it’s more than funny, it’s crazy, because companies were sold behind our backs, and we always had a tiny share of everything. And all the big businessmen always advised us to sell everything. They never said, “Hold onto your paintings because one day they might be valuable.” So we were persuaded to sell all the bits and pieces of our rights, which is about the worst advice you can get. Lord Goodman, who shall not be nameless, was one of the people advising us at that time. I don’t think it was good advice, and he ended up advising the Labour government. So he told us the wrong things; he probably told them the wrong things.

Were you really on one percent royalty at the beginning?

To tell you the truth, I don’t remember. I don’t really know what percent. Those days I just signed the contract. It was too long and boring to really read. It would have taken way too much time, plus I couldn’t understand it.

You said something very revealing when I just changing the tapes, which is that you are still a bit shy to say you own “Stormy Weather.”

You’ve got to do something with money. You’ve got to invest it in something. I love songs, and the opportunity came up to do all that, and so I’m now a publisher and a businessman, which to me is something I don’t like to talk about too much. Maybe I’m not grown up enough. What originally happened was, Lee Eastman said to me, “if you were to invest in stuff, what kind of stuff do you like ” And I said, “Music.” And he said, “Well, what kind of people in music do you like!” I told him a few. I said, “Buddy Holly, but if you’re talking about more up-to-date people, Harry Nilsson, Randy Newman.”

I love Buddy Holly, I’ve been crazy about him since I was a kid. And Lee rang up one day and said, “Buddy Holly’s publishing is up for sale.” I said, “Fantastic, I don’t believe it.” And he said, “We got it, for the company, we got it.” So, I just thought, well, either we just get it and leave it, which would be possible, or we try and make a bit of noise about it and get some bit of activity going. So I said, “Let’s have Buddy Holly Week; let’s have it on his birthday instead of his death day and just try to get people to play his music, cause there are kids who’ve never even heard him. “It’s a pretty haphazard thing, but last year we had Buddy’s film [The Buddy Holly Story], which worked out great; the year before we had the Crickets [Holly’s band] and the year before we had Norman Petty [Holly’s producer]. It awakened a lot of interest. You suddenly started to find Teds pouring out of the cracks in the floorboards cause there was incredible interest there that I hadn’t even realized, really. Finding these fourteen- and fifteen-year-old kids coming in?all the hairdos — saying, “Yeah, man, Buddy Holly, he’s my favorite, him and Eddie Cochran.” And Eddie Cochran was dead before they were born. But they still got this big feeling for him. And Buddy is now like the big hero. Not that he wasn’t always, but there is new interest in him, which I think is great.

It must have been a relief when you realized that all of these protracted Apple negotiations really don’t matter that much anymore, because your current fiscal structure means that, while it may not be a drop in the bucket, nonetheless you don’t need it.

Indeed. That was it. For a while it wasn’t so much that I needed it; is was just that the whole thing was like a headache, an emotional headache. This is getting like a psychiatrist’s interview, isn’t it! It wasn’t particularly all the money. It was just that it was a drag to be arguing with these three people whom I’d come all this way with, and it just wasn’t possible to wink and say, “Come on, let’s sit down at the table and just talk about it.”

[onepdumpsterfire]

Disclaimer: These stories are based ‘loosely’ on the game Obey me shall we date. The major stuff will be the same, but here and there the story will be changed or embellished. It is just an AU and I do not own the game the characters, from both One Piece or Obey Me, nor do I own One Piece in general. It would be cool though…

Warning: The characters will mostly be ooc and for the most part will not have the same background as in the anime/manga. The reader’s age will be above consent; the exact number is up to you.

Nola

Devildom!AU

(pt6/?)

Various Characters X Reader

Shanks heard about the fight the brothers had. He’d heard about how you got hurt. At first, he was angry at Sabo for doing what he did. If anything happened to the exchange student this whole thing would be a waste. He punished Sabo for what he did. Beating him bloody. Shanks decided he couldn’t take his eyes off him until he was sure he wouldn’t rage out again. So he proposed a three-day retreat. He could keep an eye on Sabo, and make all three realms get along. He needed to see results in his plan, if this was the only way to do it then it’ll have to do.

As courteous as he was, he made it known that this request was no entreaty. You all would show and be in your best behavior. No protests. No complaints. No objections. And so, that is how you found yourself taking a tour of his palace. Benn, One of Shank’s loyal servants, was explaining the more historic artifacts that decorated the halls. It was interesting to hear the different stories each piece held. One, in particular, held more than the rest. It was a painting of a woman she dressed in clothing from what seemed like the mid-1800s. She wore a high waisted baby-blue gown with a white lacy bonnet and shawl. This seemed to be from the human world. Her out of time style clothing wasn’t the only thing that drew attention to her. She seemed to be moving…

“Sanji!” came her scream. The painting can speak? Sanji looked puzzled. Had he done something to the painting to make them mad? “Oh, I know you! Violet, from when I visited Spain in the human world.” So he had. “You hornswoggler, pigeon-livered, ratbag!” 

“Now, now, sweetheart. No need to get nasty.” Sanji barely seemed to consider her as anything. What wrong had he done to make her say such strange…insults? “What brings you down here? Was the power you gained from me not enough?”

“Power?! From you?! Yeah right! You left me for dead!” Her shrieks shook the frame she was imprisoned in. “the coven betrayed me and trapped me in here! I’ve been passed around and showcased like one of those wagtail wenches! This is all your fault! If only you had st-”

“If only I had what? Stayed and helped? If I recall correctly all you asked for was ‘unimaginable power’ to bring those meaters of the coven to their knees” Sanji approached the painting, “If you didn’t know how to properly use them and was outwitted by those Vazey, Mumbling coves, it was on you.” His tone was dark and airy. Like he was trying to threaten her without letting the others know, but by how the room seemed to resonate around him, it wasn’t that convincing. “You Flapdoodle! I’ll make you pay!” You what…. Flapdoodle, really? You didn’t get much of a chance to wonder what that word implied. She let out bright light, oils swirling inside the painting. They turned into a vortex sucking everything near inside. First, it was Sanji then Nami and Ace. the last ones it took were you and Kid who grabbed on to law for support, but they were both dragged in anyway. 

The lights where you appeared were dim. Beside you was Kid and Law, separated from the rest. “We need to find the others,” was the first thing said in the eerie quietness of the corridor you were in. “What we need to do is find out where we are.” An interjection from the other male. “Not the time to fight, both of you.”

“We’ll look around, figure out where we are and find the others at the same time.” Both men looked at each other, surprised by your sudden leadership. “Yes, ma’am,” Law mocked you but listened to your orders nonetheless. Not like he had much of a choice. After the pact, every order you gave no matter how small, was followed. You didn’t like making them do things, giving them orders, but when the hands were down… You needed them to focus right now. 

The path twisted and turned in many directions. There were dead ends and traps, like a maze. For the leader of this makeshift gang, you had to take the back seat in most dangers that befell you. They were too grand to fight off yourself. If one thing came out of this, you learned the extent of both your companion’s capabilities and an invaluable piece of information. While you held a pact with them their demon forms wouldn’t hurt you. The power that they release, that is.

Their presence felt otherworldly, like Sabo’s. Their combined power would have pulverized you. It was just as great and magnificent as the first time you were able to see it. When Sabo threw you against the tomb’s wall. This time you could hold your own against this gripping force that radiated out of them. Your sight was clear and your head didn’t hurt. Your body didn’t weaken at the proximity. It was probably because of the pact you made with them.

Their forms changed as Sabo’s had. Law grew tusk-like horns that protruded from the back of his head, wrapping around to the front. They were pearl-white and sharp. Under his coat there was a tail, thin with a tuft of black hair at the end. Kid Had also grown one of his own, a golden tail that faded into pitch black. His own set of horns came out from the top of his head, twisting into their sharp endings. His teeth ground into fangs. They looked savaged like they’d maul anything that crosses his path. 

They both ferociously protected you from any trap that was set up in the labyrinth. Tearing into anything that moved and ripping you away from any danger that befell you. Eventually, you did come across the others, having a hammering headache as your guide. The two demons had to go ahead in front of you to tell Ace and Sanji to turn back from their demon forms so you could step closer. Nami, on the other hand, wasn’t affected by it. Her magic gives her protection from their power. “Oh my sweet, Y/n. it’s okay to come closer now.” Sanji called out for you. “R-right,” you turned the corner to meet them.

“Now we need to find an exit.”

“Darling, how I love it when you take charge.�� Sanji was a flirtatious fool, no wonder that woman, Violet, was mad at him. However, she should have known better than to cross a whole coven. Pushing you in front, the two brothers you made a pact with ‘protected’ you from their brother. Not wanting you close the lascivious demon.

There was more walking, the labyrinth seemed endless. Yes labyrinth, Ace had filled you all in about it when you caught up. It was below the castle, and nearly inescapable, to those who didn’t know the way. But a powerful mage could figure it out with a spell or two, she just wanted to find the others first. With you guys here there was nothing stopping Nami. She started her spell, but there was this rustling coming from the chambers. It was a persistent sound, like sliding on the floor. Nami stopped her spell to hear it better, “what is that?” All present stopped to listen to the low creeping sound that was… getting closer. 

A wall down the path to your left was moving, you could swear that it didn’t lead to a dead-end before. “Guys, what is that?” You pointed at the scaly impasse that seemed to be moving to block all exit points. “Oh, fuck,” Law whispered under his breath, “That’s my pet Mindsnare Naga, Nola.” Kid punched his arm, “a mindsnare, really Law, really.” They were nasty creatures who seek power above all else. They’re immortal beasts that needn’t worry about time, creating convoluted plans to get to their goal. The highest-ranking person in the location they decide to nest in. They live to control and dominate their victims into submission. They suck them out of life with their venom then fill them with false memories and a built personality to help them reach their goal. If it was deep in the bowels of the castle had it already started it’s schemes? Does the ruler of Devildom know what resides underneath his very feet? You could worry about the troubles of the palace after you manage to escape its clutches.

Law had forbidden you all from harming his ‘poor Nola’. The others protested though he left them no choice, threatening that he’d destroy everything they loved if they were to harm a scale on the serpent. He gave them no choice but to oblige. Crossing the avatar of envy was one of the last things anyone wanted to do. He knew how to ruin any person until they gave up on themselves. He’s sent many into an endless cycle of loathing and suffering. “You’re its master, command it!” Kid yelled at law. “I can’t, she escaped when she was still young. I didn’t have time to train her.” How useless! How were you all supposed to defend yourselves now? You can’t hurt it, much less fight it. “I should have known she’d head to the palace. Her kind charm leaders of lands to do their bidding. Shanks must have found her and trapped her down here. My poor baby.” Not the time to hand out sympathy to something that wants to kill you. “Then what are we gonna do,” Ace piped in, the first time he talked since you’ve all gotten together. “We can’t fight it-”

“Her.”

“Not the time, Law.” If anyone was pissed at the scenario you seemed to be stuck in, it was wrath himself. “Don’t those things grow a second head if you kill it?” Law rolled his eyes at his brother’s ineptitude. “No, that’s a Hydra of Lerna. And they only regrow TWO heads from one that was chopped off, not if you kill it.” Thanks for sharing the knowledge, not helping though. “A mindsnare naga charms its enemies to kill them. Which is what she should be doing now….so we better think of something. Fast.” Law said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Why not try to be a little less smug and a little more helpful? “I know what we can do.” It was Nami this time who spoke up. “If I use my pact with Sanji I can boost his own power and mesmerize the snake.”

“Not a snake.”

“No one cares.” Nami turned to Sanji. “Are you ready?” He gave her a seducing smile. “For you? Always.” Nami raised her hand, a ball of glowing light sitting in her palm. Power flowed from her and Sanji seemed to be transmitting her energy. “Praebueris tua poteste quod tibi commodare mea. Nos hanc novam transmittat; coniuncta cum virtute non moveretur a te transiret ponam inimicos.” Her incantations forced an unyielding power to surge out of Sanji. “Don’t worry, Y/n. with my power I’ll protect you, so you won’t pass out.”

Sanji’s demon form is an incubus. Leathery wings bent to make a heart around his head then they straightened into a fine point. Short curved horns came out of each side of his head, and a long thick tail with an arrowhead tip at the end. He radiated an aura that was seen flowing out of him. The boost Nami gave him made his already grand power even more so. Sanji flew through the space between the ceiling and the top of the snake. Following it till he reached the head. Nola had wrapped herself around every way out. She was now coming in through the last passageway with Sanji in tow. He had charmed her on his way over, the serpent didn’t hold any more malice. “Get on! Nola is gonna show us the way out.” Law grabbed you by the waist and jumped on, the others in right behind you. “If she knows the way out then why is she still in here?” Sanji chuckled at Law’s question. “She’s not imprisoned. Shanks found her when she was young and let her stay down here. She gets fed every day and can go out if she pleases.” Law looked sad. His serpent had chosen a different master. As much as he loved her, there wasn’t anything he could do. She was just another of the nine monsters in this realm that guarded the nine circles now. 

After you finally got out of the labyrinth you all had dinner prepared by the demons. Shanks announced that the next day you will be doing a scavenger hunt in the palace. Hence the tour of the place. The lower demons had continued the tour after you vanished, so most of what the ones left standing saw was a mystery to you. The scavenger hunt tomorrow was gonna be hard. All of them knew this and demonstrated it with a groan that passed from one to another. After supper, Shanks separated you into groups. You were with Sanji and Ace. Kid was with Law and Robin. Nami was with Luffy and Usopp. Lastly was Sabo and Shanks.

Kid had protested, yelling that you had a pact with him and should be placed with him, but Sabo told him to zip it and follow orders. You all split up into separate bedrooms for the night. Nami staying back to have a word with you. She lent you some of her power for the rest of the retreat. She said you deserve to have some form of protection for the rest of the trip, not to mention she wanted you to have a good time with the rest. You were a bit confused by her sudden willfulness to share power, something you didn’t even know could be done, but Nami was very front face about everything. She wouldn’t have lied about her intentions. Feeling a tad closer everyone you made your way to your shared room with the rest. Today was a long day, though it was filled with many fun and exciting things.

1800’s slang-

* Hornswoggler- a fraud or a cheat

* Flapdoodle- sexually incompetent man

* Meater/Pigeon-Livered- coward

* Mumbling cove- a shabby person

* Ratbag- a general term of abuse

* Vazey- stupid

* Wagtail- promiscuous woman/ dissolute man

[spookyspaghettisundae]

The Lifeblood of the Town

Snowflakes drifted down from a gray twilit sky. Winds carrying a biting cold swept over the looming treetops of the pine trees surrounding this place, causing the canopy to gently sway and crackle and whisper. It had been snowing for days, so the soft white mass caked the parking lot and a drab concrete structure on this artificial clearing.

The only tracks leading here were Rhiannon’s own footprints, drudging through the thick layer of snow that had piled up since her arrival in her old hometown, Evergreen. As she approached this desolate building, the snow crunched underfoot and it was so cold outside that she could not feel her toes in her boots anymore.

No matter how gently the snow fell, it fell without pause. Happy to find shelter in the tunnel-like entrance to the reservoir, she kicked the tips of her boots against the cement ground to knock snow off of them.

She hugged herself and huddled deeper into her black scarf and black down jacket, shivering the very moment she stopped walking. It was not the cold that caused Rhiannon to shiver, but what she saw. Occult symbols written in white chalk upon the darkened concrete wall.

She recognized them.

Before she could appreciate the strangeness inherent in this array of archaic signs, the growl of a car’s engine carried up the hill and across the empty parking lot. Rhiannon stepped deeper into the shadows here, pressing herself up against the wall and hoping to remain unseen by whomever it was who neared.

One of the sheriff department’s vehicles rolled around the curve and onto the parking lot with a painful slowness. The chains on its wheels propelled it forth with steady progress and the snow parted in front of it until the car came to a stop.

Rhiannon squinted and then recognized the man getting out of the vehicle to be Josh. He put on a cap with fuzzy earflaps and slammed the door shut behind him, then rubbed his hands together, blowing warm air into the hollow between them and repeating the rubbing with more vigor. Meanwhile, his gaze trailed after Rhiannon’s tracks, leading right up to the reservoir’s entrance.

She swore underneath her breath and stepped out of the shadows, still hugging herself and waiting for him to approach. Approaching, he raised a reddened hand in greeting and cracked a nervous smile, more courtesy than genuine as it did not quite reach his eyes.

Once he was within earshot, she asked him, “Can I help you?”

He continued without approaching and the smile faded from his face. He winced and looked Rhiannon up and down.

He cleared his throat and then asked, “Ryan Walker? Is that really you?”

“Fuck you,” she said in response to him deadnaming her.

Josh stopped in his tracks and his face fell, taken aback by the sharply-worded reply. She sighed in frustration, regretting her knee-jerk reaction because she had, after all, just insulted the deputy. When she had arrived in town the day before, the sheriff already implied that he was just looking for any reason to arrest her.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry. Sheriff said something about—somethin’, you know—and uh, I wasn’t sure,” Josh stammered. “Uh, shit. I’m really sorry, I don’t know how—y'know—this whole LGBT stuff.”

They had last seen each other over twenty years ago and he retained none of the arrogance and confidence that he used to have as one of the jocks; none of that contempt that he and the other White Wolves players and cheerleaders used to ooze when they looked down on her and her small clique of friends from back then. Rhiannon could feel her own eyes go wide with surprise at seeing him like this.

She decided to let him off the hook because his sputtering of words and what she felt were sincere attempts at apologizing.

“I’m Rhiannon now.”

Josh swallowed and asked, “So, Rhiannon Walker?���

“Yeah.”

“Again, I’m sorry,” Josh repeated with the word trailing off.

“Never mind.”

They stood there for another moment, eyes locked in the awkward silence. Josh stood out in the middle of the snowfall and it began to cover his cap and shoulders in white powder.

“Uh, okay, so. I think you should leave,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, uh, the reservoir has been off-limits to the public ever since that incident a couple o’ years back. I can drive you back down to the hotel, or wherever you need to go.”

He flashed another smile, with more genuine light about it this time.

“I don’t think so.”

And there went the smile again.

Rhiannon took a deep breath. She decided she was going to level with him here. Either he was in on things and she would get into real trouble now, or he was just the kind of unexpected ally that she needed.

“Listen, Josh? Surely you’ve noticed that there’s something wrong about this town, right?”

“Uh,” he began, swallowing whatever he had wanted to say. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets. “What do you mean?”

“Complaints about a naked man wearing a severed horse’s head chasing people out of Lakeview Hotel, rumors of people disappearing from the hospital for brief periods of time without memory of whatever happened, sightings of UFO-like lights up here over the reservoir, and people disguised as the homeless dancing with shopping carts on parking lots by night?”

The blood drained from his face. Either he knew something more, or hearing her bluntly summarize these strange things struck a chord with him.

“Okay. Sure. I mean, every town’s gotta have weird stuff—weird stories like that, right? What about it?”

Rhiannon hugged herself tighter as the cold was seeping into her bones and her fingers tingled with numbness, despite having escaped the wind by stepping into the reservoir’s entrance.

“I’m investigating because I have reason to believe that someone who lives in town is going to commit a murder soon. And I’m going to stop that from happening,” Rhiannon said with a fiery confidence.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“How—why do believe to know about this upcoming murder? Who?”

She bit her lip and said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He shook his head, his brow furrowed. His almost endearing nervousness had vanished from his voice when he said, “Not good enough. Humor me.”

Now Rhiannon was getting nervous. She decided to give him a more rationalized rendition of Alethea’s theory.

“My friends and I got a letter from Harry—or rather, someone posing as him. It said that someone was gonna die in the shower room at the high school reunion party.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed and pierced into her own, and she found it impossible to read his expression now.

Rhiannon reached out to her side and tapped a black-painted fingernail against the white chalk markings on the wall.

“These are occult symbols,” she said.

Breaking eye contact and squinting to discern what she was pointing out, he finally stepped closer, exiting the incessant snowfall outside the reservoir’s entrance and sidling up beside her within the tunnel-like area. Producing a small flashlight from one of his zippered jacket pockets, he clicked it on and shone it upon the wall.

The cone of light swept back and forth, and Rhiannon closely followed his face to see if he might be pretending to be oblivious about everything. Still impossible to determine.

“What on earth is—what do they mean?”

Rhiannon had not had much time to decipher them herself before he arrived and her curiosity was enkindled once more. She snatched the flashlight from Josh’s hand and they exchanged an awkward stare that lingered for far too long.

Then she used the flashlight’s glow to read the symbols in sequence.

He scratched at the line of one of the symbols and muttered, “Pretty new, like they were drawn not too long ago.”

“Sleep and obey,” Rhiannon said.

“Huh?”

“That’s what they mean, in a nutshell. Ijjisar, Moratar, Kherevar. Old Mesopotamian necromancy, used in ancient rituals. That is, if I’m remembering these correctly.”

“Okay, but what does any of that mean?”

Rhiannon shook her head and sighed in frustration, “Wish I remembered. Didn’t think to bring my fucking library of occult books when I decided to come back to this shitty town.”

Josh took the flashlight back out of her hand and she let him. He clicked it off again.

With rising fervor, Rhiannon said, “I think there’s a weird cult in this town. I think there always has been, and I think the letter about the murder is serious. I also think that there might be clues to the cult, or the murder, or something up here. So you should either arrest me now or do your fucking job and help me get to the bottom of this.”

She grabbed the flashlight back from his hand and switched it back on, shining down the tunnel, where a deep suffocating darkness swallowed the light.

Josh emitted a stifled groan. “You’re a civilian, for fuck’s sake.” In the absence of any response from her and Rhiannon just glaring at him, he groaned without restraint. “I see there ain’t gonna be any way of talkin’ you outta this.” He licked his lips and added, “Wait here.”

Waddling back through the snow, he went over to his car and—much to Rhiannon’s surprise—retrieved a shotgun from the passenger seat. He then switched on a flashlight mounted onto the firearm and returned to join her in the reservoir’s entrance.

“So, why this place?”

Rhiannon pondered his question for a moment and went ahead, walking deeper into the bowels of this concrete building. The rapping of her boot’s heels reverberated with a headache-inducing loudness. Josh sped up his pace until he caught up and walked by her side, shining the light on his shotgun down the corridor.

“Do you believe in the supernatural?” she asked.

“Can’t say I really—nah.”

She shone her flashlight into his face and caused him to wince and blink, then he shot her a dirty look.

“Lemme give you a crash course in ritual magick and symbolic tension,” she said. “Whether you believe in it having any real effect or not, a common principle underlying all magick is that specific associations give it its power.”

Without the constant cold breeze outside, it almost felt warmer in this corridor, gently sloping down beneath their feet. A strange smell in the air made Rhiannon’s nostrils flare. It reminded her of stale sweat, like the locker rooms in Evergreen High.

“Sorry, I think you lost me there.”

The echoes of water dripping mingled with the sounds of them walking through the corridor.

“Well, to use some cliché examples, think of things like—I don’t know—a virgin’s blood. It represents purity and youth, so occultists would try using it in rituals or potions meant to cleanse or rejuvenate. Or, take ravens. They’re carrion birds and associated with death, so it wasn’t uncommon for some mystics to rattle around some raven bones and throw them like dice to read the emerging patterns—to make sense of what ghosts were trying to tell them.”

“Oh. Okay, I think I get what you mean.”

They reached the end of the tunnel as it opened up into the yawning darkness of a larger hall, wide enough that the light from their flashlights barely reached the opposite end. A padlocked fence stopped them from progressing, but beyond that was a metal ladder descending onto a concrete walkway that circled around a pool of water in the hall’s center.

Another tunnel at the end of the hall beckoned her in this darkness. It called out to her, luring her in with promises of answers—and warning her of terrible danger that crept in its depths.

Josh fumbled with a key ring and unlocked the fence so they could step closer to the ladder.

Rhiannon asked without expecting an answer, “So what’s this reservoir in terms of symbolic tension?”

“The lifeblood of the town,” Josh said before she could answer her own question. Better than what she had had in mind.

She shot him another glance without shining the light at him, surprised and impressed by how quickly he had caught on.

“That’s why symbols translating to ‘sleep’ and 'obey’ should be all the more concerning,” she said. “Because it really gives off a vibe of—”

“Poisoning the well.”

Their gazes met for a few moments, a twinkle of recognition in them. Rhiannon began to worry again if he had not in fact been playing dumb up until now. If anybody was secretly part of some cult controlling the town, who better than one of its lawmen to cover things up?

“Yeah.”

The water sloshed at the end of the hall. Both Rhiannon and Josh jerked their lights around and trained them on the source of the sound. The surface rippled with motion; something had moved there.

“Hello? Deputy Joshua Halloway, here. I’m gonna need you to identify yourself.”

Rhiannon’s heart pounded so hard against the inside of her rib cage that she wondered if Josh could hear it. They stared in anticipation of an answer, but deep down she knew that there would be no reply.

A cold sweat broke out underneath her jacket and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and even deeper down she knew exactly that there was nobody there.

She had to know. She had to get to the bottom of all of this for her friends. And for Harry. She owed it to her best friend—her dead friend.

She bit onto the flashlight and started climbing down the ladder.

Josh hissed, “Hey, where do you—what do you think—are you nuts?”

Rhiannon continued down until she took first careful steps onto the narrow walkway around the pool. The ripples had subsided and the water’s surface had calmed again.

Josh swore out loud and followed her down the ladder. “Hold up. I don’t know how I’m gonna explain any of this if anything happens to you down here.”

Rhiannon’s mind kept circling back and forth between the worry of what might be lurking in these watery tunnels and whether or not Josh might be part of the cult—that she was far removed from any help should he be ready to use that gun on her. She began to regret not taking the switchblade Danielle had offered her when they had met today.

Arriving at the bottom of the ladder, Josh called out into the oppressive darkness again, “Hello?”

Rhiannon thought she heard a distant scratching sound, so faint that she struggled to believe it had been real. But the glance that she and Josh exchanged told her that it was not just her imagination.

“You should stay behind me,” he whispered to her.

Part of her wanted to object out of habit, but she conceded, feeling somewhat relieved at the offer. Josh was a full head taller and armed, appeared to still be in as good shape as he used to be in his youth, and having him walk in front of her not only meant that he could fend off whoever might be lurking down here, but also suggested he wasn’t going to shoot her in the back.

Taking care not to fall into the pool, he used caution to side-step around Rhiannon while facing her. The walkway was so narrow that he brushed past her, causing her to feel his breath against her forehead and the fabric of their jackets to rustle.

Feeling a bit ashamed, heat shot into her cheeks but he had already gone ahead of her and luckily could not witness her turn red in the face.

Advancing steps ahead, he peered over his shoulder and nodded to her, “I’ve seen a map of the tunnels here. Please stay close—this place turns into a fucking maze in no time.”

Rhiannon affirmed that with a subtle sound from behind lips tightly pressed together, and snapped out of her brief daze. She sped up until she was within arm’s reach of Josh again.

They ended up both shining their lights onto an arrow, drawn onto the wall with white chalk. It pointed down a side-tunnel that branched off to their left.

“You think that's—”

“Yeah,” she interrupted him. “Just—just a feeling.”

Josh continued on, nudging with his foot a metal grate that crossed over the water, connecting the walkways on both sides. Once he seemed satisfied, he walked across it and Rhiannon followed.

Without turning around, he asked, “How do you know so much about occult stuff?”

She decided against freaking him out. Dumping the whole truth-bomb on him just seemed counterproductive at this point.

“I studied a lot of books on the matter in my free time.”

“And what do you do for a living, if I may ask?”

“You may not.”

He stopped and she almost bumped into him. Josh looked back at her, his face contorted with confusion. She grinned from ear to ear.

“Kidding,” she said and dropped the grin, immediately tired at the thought that followed, and she added, “I work two retail jobs.”

“Oh,” Josh said, the disappointment in his voice dragging his tone down. “You were so good in school, I thought—”

“Nah, but the rest of the Losers Club turned out way better than me.”

Her emphasis on that moniker, “Losers Club,” forced a shadow to pass over his face. He broke eye contact to stare into the water between the walkways.

“Hey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry we used to be such shitheads to you back in high school.”

Rhiannon cringed a bit at some unpleasant memories welling up and batted them down the second they arose.

“Let’s not dwell on it.”

They continued on in silence, though unnerving sounds echoed through the tunnels, drowning in the atmosphere of water trickling and flowing and dripping everywhere. A scratch here, a snapping sound there; it became hard to focus on any single source of noise.

Josh chuckled, “Probably just rodents or cats or whatnot down here. Nothing to be afraid of.”

He had said it all with such a flatness that it exuded no confidence whatsoever.

“Who said I’m afraid?”

She had meant to say that jokingly, but blurted it out with a sharpness that either came across as offended or on edge.

“I think I’m mostly speakin’ to myself. This place is givin’ me the creeps,” he admitted.

Rhiannon said with some song in her voice, “Nothing bad ever happened in dark tunnels filled with water.” She hoped that taking things with humor would dispel the tendrils of dread wrapping themselves around her lungs, clamping down and shortening each breath she took.

“Yeah, you’d think there’d be more horror movies about this, huh?”

After both their nervous chuckles died down, the eerie ambient of the water tunnels engulfed them once more, underlined by the echoing strikes of their feet against the concrete ledges. They continued on, discovering more arrows drawn with white chalk. And following them.

Like lab rats.

“So, you said you saw a map of this place—”

“Been years, though. We were supposed to go looking for a lost kid down here, but it turned out to be a prank. Brat had been home all along, just when I had started studying the map.”

“How big is this place?” Rhiannon asked, emphasizing it with a degree of disbelief, as she felt lost despite the arrows they had been following.

“Huge. Ridiculously huge. Spans the entire town.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a network parallel to the sewer system.”

“Shouldn’t it just be, like, pipelines?”

“You’d think so, but this place was built really early on when the town was founded. Eighteen-hundred-something. Iron shortage made them get creative back then. Only reason it’s the way it is now is because they insisted on maintaining the tunnels and renovating them with concrete.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Book on the town’s history, in the local library.”

“Look who’s the bookworm now,” Rhiannon quipped.

“There’s not a lot to—”

The sentence died in Josh’s mouth and both of them froze. Something sloshed through the water. The echoes of splashing and gurgling came from everywhere, bouncing off the walls. Both of their flashlights frantically flitted about, trying to spot anything ahead of them.

When they shone their lights behind them, Rhiannon gasped. Both shaking cones transfixed on something black, hairy, and wet, sticking a few inches out of the stream of water. She could not tell what she was looking at.

Only that a set of pitch-black eyes stared back at them. Water bubbled in front of it, as if the thing was exhaling underwater.

It drifted closer, and Rhiannon backed up, bumping into Josh. He pushed past her and aimed his gun at the thing in the water.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed.

The water exploded and something huge leapt from it at them. Rhiannon’s ears rang and her mind only retroactively registered the deafening shot Josh had fired, the disgusting wet sound it had caused on impact, and the horrific growl that this creature emitted.

Josh yelled—first in anger, then howling in pain. His foot slipped into the water and with a splash, he crashed into the cold wet. The thing followed and they began thrashing in the water, splashing and spraying Rhiannon.

An awful stench permeated the air, reeking of garbage left out on a sunny day or the smell of vomit that Rhiannon came to associate with an eating disorder she hoped to have put behind her.

Terror paralyzed her. She wanted to help Josh, but pictured being ripped apart the moment she sank into the water. She wanted to run away, but could not abandon him.

He sputtered and clung to the walkway for a split second before something pulled him under, then he bobbed back up. His forehead had turned dark—with blood? He gasped and shouted something incomprehensible. Then she winced at the click-clack of the shotgun being pumped, and covered her ears before the next loud bang erupted in the tunnels.

This time, the creature howled, gurgled, and submerged again. Rhiannon’s light danced all over the place, trying to make out what she was seeing. Coming to her senses, she found the clarity to bite down on the light again and grab onto Josh’s arm with both her hands, helping him clamber back out of the water and onto the walkway.

That thing—did it have a beak? More than four limbs? Was it really covered in hair, or in feathers? She stared more at the cold darkness where she had last seen it disappear than she did at Josh, curling her fingers into his jacket.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, without even giving him a look.

He brushed her off and swiveled with the gun pointing it back and forth and looking for any motion in the water.

From the corner of her eye, she now noticed that his jacket was torn—shredded—and dark red liquid slowly pulsed its way out of it. A crimson sheen coated the left side of his face. Whatever pain he must have been in, the adrenaline pumping through his veins had to be masking it.

The water bubbled, this time several steps away. Something slimy and hairy and pitch-black rose from it again, like a panther rearing back to pounce.

“Run,” Josh said. Then he repeated it as a shout, booming with authority.

Survival instinct kicked in, pumping that adrenaline and driving her to dash and jog and stumble and run away. She gripped a corner, scraping her palm on the rough cement, turning down into another tunnel, the metal grate underneath her boots clanking as she crossed to another walkway, always following the white chalk-mark arrows until she passed multiple branches without any further markings.

With the drum of her heartbeat blotting out most minor noises and her will to live stamping out every other thought, Rhiannon failed to realize how long she had been escaping without ever looking back to see what had happened to Josh. Which she did now, stopping to catch her breath and look behind her.

Just in time for another loud gunshot to echo through the tunnels, prompting her to continue running.

The darkness continued to swallow the light wherever she shone it ahead, never revealing any end to these endless corridors. That is, until she recognized the zigzag of steps; a set of stairs that led upwards. Waves of relief washed over her as she discovered an end to this tunnel. An escape.

The walkways on both sides just ended here, connecting and giving a few paces of space before the stairs began.

She jogged up the steps, heart still pounding and her lungs aching for oxygen.

Every sense of relief died instantly and the despair of helplessness made her body tremble as she stepped deeper into this room. It was empty and without windows or exits.

A dead end.

The whole place reeked of mold. As she scanned it with her flashlight, she found it was not completely empty. An odd assortment of metal objects were arranged in a perfect circle on the floor in this room’s center. An old lighter, mirror, pocket watch, knife, nails, screws, and other items caked in dust and in varying stages of rust and decay.

In their midst stood a pile of dust. Or ashes. As Rhiannon took a cautious step towards this circle, she knew in her gut that it was the product of some occult ritual. It all rang a bell—a really distant bell, like she had seen it before—but a bell not loud enough for her to recognize its meaning.

Next to the circle was a tiny crumpled up box. She nudged it with the tip of her boot and it flipped over, allowing her to read some letters despite the dust and grime obscuring them. Her mind filled in the masked letters and it spelled: Valium Diazepam.

Still breathing heavily from running all this way, the pile of dust dispersed once she had reached the edge of the circle, scattering in all directions like a tiny black cloud trying to flee. The urge to sneeze tickled her nose but she suppressed it, dreading the thought of that thing—that creature—hearing her here.

Water sloshed.

Rhiannon froze.

Water sloshed again, coming from behind her. From the tunnel she had just come from.

But closer, now.

With haste, she grabbed the rusty knife off the ground and switched off her flashlight, inching back towards the wall next to the entrance to this dead end room.

She waited there, expecting more sounds to reveal the creature approaching, though nothing came. She held her breath, causing her lungs to rebel and her nostrils to flare even more desperately for air than they had during her run.

Her eyes never adjusted to the blanket of shadows that enveloped her. Because there was no light whatsoever. She could only see the spots she would see when closing her eyes. It dawned on her that she had never found herself in such a pure darkness.

Water sloshed and something big and heavy emerged from it. Dripping, slapping, scraping, and thumping. And that foul stench of vomit was back, wafting up those stairs.

The thing waited. If it needed to breathe, it made no such sound. Instead, water continued to drip from its massive body. Rhiannon’s mind struggled to see it as something hairy or feathered. Something standing on hind legs or on all fours.

It growled.

With wet sounds like bags of meat slapping down onto the concrete steps, it began climbing the stairs. On all fours. Or six limbs?

Rhiannon’s lungs screamed and she felt like her chest was about to explode.

The thing moved right next to her and stopped, blocking her only way out. Water continued to drip and she fought the urge to throw up. However awful it had smelled before, up close was even worse. She could taste the bile coming up and hoped it could not hear a peep as her body convulsed with the motions that heralded retching.

“Rhiannon?” shouted Josh from the tunnels. The pitch made him sound terrified and desperate—and hurt.

Beside her, something scraped against the ground, like claws. Long, sharp claws. The thing turned and left, going back down the stairs with ferocious and unexpected speed, scratching and growling and then splashing back into the water inside the tunnel.

Finally, she allowed herself to breathe again, though the fear strangled it, making each intake short and flat and rendering her lightheaded.

She waited, still trying her best to control her breath, listening out for anything. Anything at all. But other than the sounds of water dripping and flowing down the tunnel, she heard neither sign of the creature nor of Josh.

Rhiannon decided to hold onto the knife for now, and blindly groped her way along the wall, too afraid to switch her light back on. She stuffed Josh’s flashlight into her pocket and used her empty hand to find her way by sense of touch, in fear of the knife’s blade scraping against the walls and attracting the creature to her location.

She descended the stairs and returned to the tunnel, continuing on without seeing where she was going.

She reminded herself to keep going right until she found her way back out. The solution to any maze. At a snail’s pace, she went on like this for minutes that felt like hours. Every second felt like an eternity, every moment dilated by her imagination of the creature’s sudden return.

Every now and then, she stopped and listened. Every drip of water made her body stiffen with fear, expecting a flurry of them to follow as a sign of the creature climbing back out of the water to attack her.

But nothing came.

“Rhiannon?” Josh whispered from the darkness.

Her fingers trembled until they connected with his and he gripped her hand. Icy cold, colder than her own. Cold like death. She gripped it harder and was never happier to hold anybody’s hand than now.

“Thank God you’re alright,” he said in an exasperated sigh. “I think I know where we are. The hospital’s gotta be above us here somewhere, and—a ladder.”

He tugged—a gentle tug. They snuck through the tunnels without light.

The space between their hands was wet and it took minutes for Rhiannon to realize that it was not the residue of cold water on Josh’s skin, but something warmer. And sticky.

His grip weakened.

—Submitted by Wratts

[szopenhauer]

Can you talk on the phone while having the tv/radio on? not really ^^”

Describe your teeth: ugh...

Whats the longest youve lived without electricity? days, maybe weeks, no longer than 2

Name all the types/brands of cigarettes you have tried: RGD blue

What is one thing you stand strongly for? hmm... I’m weak

If you could be the owner of one site what would it be? old polyvore :(  I’d keep it 

What does your doormat say? sadly nothing

What is something you always have in your fridge? light lol

What age can you not wait for? I’m not looking forward to growing older wtf

Name all the drugs you’d never do: I don’t plan to try any illegal substances nor even cigarettes or alcohol

What is the most alcohol you’ve drank in a night? half a mug of absynth while I was on meds that I shouldn’t mix with it :x

What street sign do you find totally pointless? round ones have no points lmfao *dry humor

Do you like water? but drink or what?

Would you ever be a zoo keeper? maybe Do you like the name Mia? it reminds me of Mamma mia and I disliked this movie as I’m not fan of musicals so...  Do you have pictures in your room of your friends and you? just parents and dog, not even grandma’s anymore Would you like to live in Canada? no Do you want to be a mouse? dunno When was the last time you had a date? recently Are you in a poke war on Facebook? it reminds me of Sebastian :x Aren’t penguins cute?  they’re fine Would you rather have your friends at your house or you at theirs? have friends over is cool if not my mother and mess (and covid now too of course) as going out is a struggle  True or false: Life is unfair. sigh... Do you have curtains in your living room? What do they look like? we do, they’re like golden/yellowish/beige 

Are you a fan of Star Wars? huge

Do you hate when people don’t capitilize the beginning of the sentence? I do it all the time True or False: Justin Bieber is gay. he’s married to a female, he was dating a gal before too, it’s unlikely

Are you worried about how much paper and water we use? mhm

Did you ever take a computer class in school? we all had to Would you like to sit around and do nothing all day? mmm :3

Mini skirts, jeans or both? neither Are you good at come backs? better than when I was a kid fo sho! When’s the last time you watched the news? I don’t even remember Do you really think that the number 13 is unlucky? it’s my dad’s lucky number  Personality or looks? personality is 90% + I don’t count sex - just women exclusively Do you ever dance around your room when your by yourself? at times Do you hate the cold? very, brrr How long can you hold your breath for? about a minute? What’s something you seem to run out of often? ... Do you think that there really is someone out there for all of us? not for every human being  Do you think Cookie Monster is cute? it’s alright Do you ever wish you were a bird? yes Have you ever had a dream where you killed someone? I fight a lot of ppl in my dreams Do you ever wish on your eye lashes? I believe they’re sent by those who think about you instead Do you ever make up stories in your head and wish they come true? some of them only Do you look at people in the eyes when you talk to them? usually not when I talk which makes them think I’m lying, I prefer to look them in the eye when I listen  Which is worse: stuffy nose or runny nose? runny nose is worse  Do you think it would be cool to be part of the royal family? it would be easier in some ways, harder in others, guess it could be worthy after all? Do you have to wear a belt with your pants? I don’t own/wear any Do you think your last relationship was a disaster? I’m taken rn True or False : You were born in March false Do you wear hats in the winter? I do, it’s cold

Are you looking forward to the new year? sorta Are you afraid that one day you may get cancer? I know I will Which is worse : Dentist or doctor? doctor

Do you hate when the radio overplays a song? that’s one of the reasons I don’t listen to the radio What’s your least favorite thing that begins with the letter C? chronic illnesses? Do you wish you could walk on water? how would I take a bath then? Which is your favorite symbol : ! @ $ % ^ & * ( ) ? ? Do you like your legs? they’re not the worst Would you rather visit London or Paris? London Twilight or Harry Potter? HP if I have to choose any Do you have a big nose? I heard I do, they were calling me NOSE in middle school Can you rap? nah Do you like the number 4? meh What color is your bike? my push scooter is green ;) Have you ever tried to count the stars? I don’t think so Are you not over someone? apparently as we’re dating 

Have you kissed someone today? not today Have you taken a painkiller today? nope Have you had a nap today? neither If you’re currently in a relationship - do you think it will last? I’m afraid not ;(  *covid, my issues, our differences etc. - everything can fuck it up and probably will I try to enjoy the moment but it will break us hard sooner or later and I’m getting used to the tought even tho she asks me not to give up (I don’t plan to but I worry she might) I’m gonna miss what we have... if this relationship won’t work I’m not gonna look for anybody new ever  What would you wear if you were being taken out to dinner tonight? how fancy? Do you take your Christmas decorations down before or after New Years? after, before my birthday Have you made a large purchase today? no Have you ever had a migraine? it’s a disease, you either have it or not, that’s not just a single headache Have you locked your front door today? my parents are outside muahahaha Have you been awake before sunrise today? noooooooo

Do you normally eat dessert? nope Do you think you could be happy if you had to live with only nine outfits? not during winter Do you watch sunrises? barely ever Do you wake up before the sunrise? when I can’t sleep Do you watch sunsets? not interested

What would you paint on a pumpkin? why not carve? Do you ever imagine you are richer than you are? when planning my dream apartment  Do you ever imagine that you live in an entirely different world? kind of Would you rather change your first name or your middle? I have no middle name, I could add one or change first, whatever Do you wish your last name was more interesting? more like shorter  If you wrote a novel, would you give the characters ordinary names? it varies Do you worry too much? I’m a worrier What’s your favorite leaf color? green Do you wonder if you have super vision? I have a very good vision which is weird knowing how much I read in the past and how long I sit in front of the computer Do you like the smell of autumn leaves? not a fan If you were a singer, what would you sing and write songs about? sad stuff Would you rather be a dancer or a musician? musician

Where do you put your keys when you get home? not gonna tell you

Are you expecting any phone calls or emails? what if I win the contest?...

What does a successful relationship look like to you? success is when ppl die together (I mean not the same time but when they get older together) and not just because they had to, relationship is more than getting used to and coping - it’s happiness out of being together even if everything around is shit, you know what I mean?

What is the best house you’ve ever lived in? I’ve never moved

Do you look in the mirror before you leave the house? if I need to

Have you ever seen someone quit their job in a dramatic way? nope?

What was the last email you received? spam

Do you know someone who speaks without a filter? less filters than most but it also depends on who they’re talking to and what about

Are you the youngest, middle or eldest child in your family? youngest

What’s something you’ve been meaning to do but keep putting off? I’m a procrastinator so don’t even ask

What’s the first thing you check on your phone at the start of the day? fb messenger

[bladekindeyewear]

Boots reads Homestuck Epilogue part... one..??

Alright, let’s do this.  As I’ve said, the page after this one is all I’ve seen, I’m diving in unspoiled.  Also I gather from some of the non-spoilery chatter I’ve heard from my friends -- one of which warned me this sort of thing was coming a couple weeks ago, and I believed them (but didn’t want to) -- that this first epilogue-upd8 may not be the only epilogue-upd8, which isn’t surprising either given how Andrew works.

Alright, let’s go.  Hope my stomach can take it!

So, Page 1, the mock-AO3 page that’s the only thing I’ve seen before posting this.  The content warning is EXCELLENT, and gives me hope that this will be the usual Hussie-caliber and more humorous than heartwrenching.  :)

It also makes some serious sense that there would be multiple epilogues; from the sound of the summary, this one might focus more on John and then leave ample opportunity to discuss the others.

Let’s click page 2 -- oh, or contents: “Prologue”, this being a chapter list for this is another way to do it.  Clicking Prologue.......

Okay wow, this is novel format for the moment.  Good chance it won’t stay that way.

These first two paragraphs are well-written and ominous, sure -- describing stuff we pretty much already knew was happening, in different words -- but even though the writing isn’t really pretentious, there’s still a good chance Andrew *views* it as pretentious enough to find cutting away to art-style instead hilarious.  Onto the third paragraph...

Music and Calliopes the other Calliope is conducting, yeah... Oh, there’s a garbage disposal reference.  In regards to a black hole.  Like the one I kind of pointed to during Dave’s intro sequence in the Third Scratch theory and stuff in all those big theories.  The ones I was, er, wrong about... ahem.  Moving on.

“Your name is John Egbert, and you have just had a terrible, deeply pretentious nightmare.”

Pfffffffff  :D

I love you Andrew Hussie.  Reading on...

YES I see chat colors. Chat colors!!! I need chat colors.  Reading reading reading let me get down to them let me

Absolutely nothing of note has ever happened here in the entire history of the planet, which you would know, because you created it.

Baahahahahah.  :D

Okay yes I’m at the phone-sterlog.

Uh oh.

I am reading elevated levels of angst compared to usual pesterlogs in this log.  Which is to say, virtually any at all, really.  THAT doesn’t bode well for the outcome/overall tone of this epilogue.  :X  --Not to say it isn’t *appropriate*, given they still haven’t fixed/resewn Paradox Space together, but... yeah, *future feels* are popping up on the radar, that’s what I’m worried about.  I loved the tone of the snapchats and the feeling that everything was going to be fine, especially given how the ending “not being what I expected” shook me a fair bit, but to look forward to when that may end... D:

Yeah, Rose having some serious visions about some unfinished business they need to get around to instead of just fucking around and living their lives makes sense.  :X  --or at least some timeline version of them.  I’m imagining they’re living varied, excellent lives in a whole TON of timelines of promise that commit our imaginings of their potential futures to virtual canon, really, with the main thread that ties off Caliborn’s stage play almost irrelevant in comparison... that was kind of the whole point of the Ending of homestuck earlier, of that final anime flash, the fact that the victory and planet and *lives* they won meant a whole lot more than whatever Lord English’s irrelevant machinations were.

So... returning to the tail end of that main thread and seeing how *serious* it might be....... yeah. Kinda mildly panic-inducing. :XXX

You move the phone away from your ear and assume an expression you haven’t practiced in years. It is the look of a man who actually has something to do.

Okay that was good.

Ah, he’s twenty-three now!

Let’s click the next link. ==>

Fuck let’s not recount Rose’s substance abuse.

Oh, cool. Er, “cool”. Rose is getting some of Rosejaspersprite^2′s awareness of all her alternate-timeline doomed selves and their lives.  No wonder she’s worried about the substance abuse she technically mostly *avoided* in this timeline.

Light explicitly relating to knowledge, good.  That’s a nice aspect tidbit to have reiterated.

ROSE: There’s a different scale I’ve come to understand. Another dichotomy that’s less... emotional, I guess? ROSE: Consider, instead of the word “good,” using the word “essential.” ROSE: And what exists at the opposite polarity from essential is... ROSE: Something that is best not to contemplate.

ooh.  oooooh. holy shit.

okay NO, BOOTS/BKEW.  DON’T GET FUCKING EXCITED.

DON’T get excited.

It only SOUNDS like she’s learned to recontextualize the whole adventure in the rich context of the classpect system, that’s just your wild fanfic-y theoryimagination talking.  Shoosh.  (Even though she IS very, very, *very* clearly referencing the Light/Void dichotomy with the above quote.)  Just... tamp down your hopes, Boots.  Leave it at MILD hope.  Like cool porridge.

Reading on.

Alright, yeah, this universe exists beyond the timespan of the Green Sun’s influence.  Unsurprising, since it was heavily implied.  And she doesn’t have access to her expanded Green Sun powerset while *in* such a universe, which was also heavily implied by alt!Calliope or her denizen or I forget the exact conversation where it said she’d have to make the final journey without Green Sun powers or whatever.  That’s cool.  (Though having it spelled out more explicitly than usual does make it more awkward to have her use her powers for humorous purposes on MXRP in the future.)

OOOH DAVE KARKAT AND JADE ARE IN A PERPLEXING SOCIAL ARRANGEMENT YESSSSS  :D

Best news.  Okay reading on.

ROSE: You will need to travel back into canon and defeat Lord English.

Yeah I guess.

Again, the way the ending sort of put it was that..... our heroes did have to defeat Lord English eventually?  Or set right some prior stuff like doing the stage play?  But that part of the point of this whole story -- the Ultimate Reward -- was that it didn’t really matter, because they had earned nigh-infinite branching timelines of promise in a brand new universe where they could go YEARS AND YEARS living their lives in many of the ways they wished, richly enjoying themselves and starting civilizations that would last billions of years, loving and living and experiencing, only “needing” to go finally check off these other responsibilities in a single timeline of promise at the end of an extended period of vacation they chose with no particular urgency.  Branching years-and-years of essentially heaven as long as they EVENTUALLY fulfilled that particular endpoint, and they knew it.  More or less.

Rose phrases it pretty explicitly, though.  John’s powers are the only thing that can warp people through canon like that without restriction, so he was always to be involved, but... *he* needs to defeat him?  Does that mean alone?

JOHN: yeah, i had a feeling that was going to come up again someday. ROSE: I’m sure we all did. That is, even those of us without visions. JOHN: i was doing my best not to think about it. i guess we can’t put it off any longer then? ROSE: Now is the time. We are rapidly approaching a point of no return. If the decision isn’t made soon, it will be too late. The issue will no longer matter. JOHN: when exactly is the point of no return? ROSE: Today. JOHN: wow. JOHN: ok then.

Ouch.

That’s slightly more abrupt than the picture of branching bliss I just painted.

JOHN: fine? ROSE: Of course everything is fine here. ROSE: We’re outside of canon now. JOHN: yeah, i know. what does that actually MEAN though? JOHN: are you saying this isn’t really happening? ROSE: Of course it’s happening. ROSE: Just because certain events take place outside of canon, it doesn’t mean those events are non-canon. JOHN: oh. ROSE: In other words, there is an important distinction between events which can be considered to occur inside canon, outside canon, and those which are not canon at all. ROSE: The day we went through that door and claimed our reward, we passed a threshold between continua marked by differing degrees of relevance, truth, and essentiality.

Well okay then.  I was wondering why she used the word “canon”.  They literally DID escape the narrative literally as *well* as figuratively with that Juju, then, Neverending Story style.

Also, Light being highly tied to canon and Rose having spent so much time outside of it... yeah, I can understand the headaches more, too.

Alright, reading on, it seems Andrew is using Rose to more explicitly explain how he intends all the non-canon stuff he’s presented to us to “matter”, for those who didn’t quite get or fully believe the implied explanation from context towards the end of the story.

Heh, so the idea is that the urgency comes from “it’s been too fucking long since the story ended, and this epilogue needs to come out when an epilogue would still matter to anyone”.  That’s kind of brilliant.

ROSE: As long as we live outside canon, everything that happens will technically be “real,” but only conditionally. ROSE: There are certain crucial events inside canon which must happen in order to continue to prop up the legitimacy of events here on Earth C. ROSE: And you specifically, John, have a responsibility to make sure those events take place.

Closing threads closing threads CLOSING THREADS :D !!!!!!

FUCK is this epilogue going to be mostly devoted to TYING UP LOOSE ENDS and clarifying stuff??? :D  Like the HUNDREDS OF LOOSE ENDS that were left unanswered because the ending tried to paint it all as sidelined/irrelevant regardless of the fact that they hadn’t been answered/fulfilled, which had previously pretty much traumatized me around Homestuck’s end because I was (1) so used to Andrew expertly tying up almost every loose end eventually and (2) was a theorycrafter with explicit investment in the idea that Classes, Aspects, and most of these loose ends actually DID matter???  :D

Sign me the fuck up!!!  :DDDD

...I know it’s doubtfully going to be anything close to all I hoped for, but still.  Answers, contextualization, and John tying up loose threads.  Like that final frog warped in front of Jade as a child.  That’s good, that’s VERY good.  I’m excited instead of nauseous.  :D

--and yeah, reading on, Rose makes more explicit what I said earlier that the justification Andrew’s painting for this is “we have to wrap up all these loose ends before everyone forgets about Homestuck.”  That is hilarious.

Okay, so the juju is a big plothole. Heheh.  We’ve heard it called that earlier.

...Oh.  Oh huh.

Rose is pretty much explicitly talking about the stage play consisting of a bunch of non-canon ALTERNATE VERSIONS of themselves that mean the original versions of them living happily in the new universe won’t actually die.  Holy shit.  I mean we theorized that for a TIME with some of them but THOSE loose ends (like Roxy still having her mask on) were closed up toward the end...  So instead, having it put THIS way (preserving our ideas of them living full lives post-victory), and not only that but having John DO all this stuff RIGHT NOW to fix things retroactively with some really well-written contextual clarification we’re bound to get to help with the closure... god DAMN.  This is really good.  This is going to make a LOT of people feel a whole lot better about Homestuck.  Like me.  :D

...Pff, some other girl is getting punched by John in the face again.  :D  Don’t worry, Rose isn’t saying that this is the Vriska punch at the beginning of the whole Retcon arc and that this epilogue somehow happened in the middle.  (I hope.)

...Yeah Rose implies heavily that John is gonna die his heroic death if he does this?  Or it’s meant to make us THINK she’s implying that.  Yeah.  And she feels pretty fucking horrible about what she’s asking John to go through regardless, so.  (Yeah, everyone looked pretty genuinely dead but a few at the end of the stage play, but it was pretty uncertain.)  Either way, she’s acting like John isn’t going to “come back”, even if he lives through this.

Stupid feels.

Clicking the next link.  ==>

Hiiii roxy and callie!!! :D

Yes how polite of them.

“Ultimate self”?  Yeah, a sort of synthesizing of all the offshoots of her Heart and Mind, pulling it all together and realizing the full person she is and sum of her whole experience across all timelines, pasts and futures.  Yeesh.  Pretty uncomfortable for someone who ain’t a hypersprite.

...Roxy and Rose aren’t as close?  Is it because of the substance abuse, because of the Light/Void dichotomy literally-or-metaphorically distancing them (with how disparaging Rose just was about anything that isn’t relevant), or something else?

Ah, Kanaya hogged her until she got “sick”, that explains some of it too.

A bell tower? (DOOONNNNGGG)

Fffff interpersonal relationship mildangst.  Fuck

You and all your friends have dispositions affected by your classes and aspects. You think you know what that means in your case. But what about her? You can only speculate. Void is a place where things sink and disappear. Where they linger forever, but cease to exist. You aren’t actually sure if your feelings for Roxy ever really faded, or if they just grew numb with time and distance. Is it the same for her?

Holy fucking shit.  What a big middle finger to everyone who told me aspects didn’t matter to their personalities.  :D

...Though, I think he has it kind of backwards, since he still doesn’t totally understand all this business.  It’s easy for those in canon, introduced to this subject, to think that the classes and aspects affect their dispositions, to an extent where the reality (at least I contend) is that it was their natural dispositions in the first place that the classes and aspects were actually describing.  The power that was latent in their very personalities and tendencies to action all along.

Reading... Ah, yeah, a choice.  Was pretty sure this terminology would be important earlier.  It depends on what SORT of choice this is though... see, so far, Rose hasn’t given John a lot of really EXPLICIT motivation to go through with this, other than some mumbo-jumbo that would supposedly be “bad”.  And it doesn’t even address the black hole in his nightmares.  And here, we have Roxy and others explicitly encouraging him with regard to the fact that he can choose NOT to do this if he wants to.

The main question it brings up (to the future of this epilogue, how it’s going to be considered afterward, etc) is if this is the sort of Choice that John would always say yes to -- in which case it’s more canon than anything else -- or if he will end up being on the fence enough for a Terezi-style Mind-split.  Because this would be the PERFECT out to have him “die” in canon.  See, if he’s on the fence ENOUGH about going, then he creates two timelines that even both potentially have promise within the confines of this universe (since universes hold more than one timeline of promise, according to one of the Calliopes I think)--  One where he lives here, happily ever after with everyone, and another where he completes his Heroic death in canon to fix everything.  It would let Andrew kill John in this epilogue while still letting him live out eternity with everyone else outside “canon”.

He’d get to have his John-death and keep him too!  Seems plausible enough.

Anyway. Reading... it looks like they know more about this decision that Rose has told them, including the consequences Rose might have been dreading.  And likely know that IF John might die doing this, that it won’t be in a way that he regrets.

Oh wow, that whole Meat or Candy sequence is GREAT.  Silly to the core, and yet perfectly emphasizing the debate that... well, I mean, think about what Andrew’s been telling us all along.

He keeps TRYING to tell us that non-canon stuff is fine.  Trying to use that huge ending sequence of Homestuck to try and tell us that the fact that everyone is FREE from this story and its confines, free for everyone to imagine COUNTLESS ways things played out afterward for ALL these lovable characters in carefree futures, is almost MORE important than any of these stupid loose ends.  But some of us were really cut by that ending, the insistence that the actual final battle “didn’t matter” and that this escaped-from-canon existence was the true victory.  But if Andrew just upped and drew a bunch of bonus pages to start explaining more story, THAT would cheapen the escape-from-canon ending he wanted even as it satisfied those of us who wanted ends tied up, who wanted questions answered.  He had to find a very careful, very well done way to give us BOTH.  To write out the real “ending” of “canon” for those of us who needed it, without compromising the ESCAPE from the very necessity of it that was the essential point he WANTED to make with Homestuck’s story from the very beginning.  To carefully keep the endless branches of post-victory possibility and play intact while still, separately and with explicit hedging and qualifications, give us the potential results of one last canon thread to tie up the lingering questions that he so dearly wants us to recognize still “don’t matter” as much in the vast scheme of things.

And he’s doing it.  And it’s WORKING.

Holy SHIT.

I am excited for Homestuck.  I am excited for Homestuck for the first time in years, and my nausea is gone.

I’m not going to start theorizing again; that’s over.  But I’m definitely going to keep reading as the new Epilogue chapters come out, and do so with a spring in my step.

To Be Continued.  :D

[incarnateirony]

My dude, I’m excited about what all this is shaping up to be for deancas but I think it’s gross frame Eileen as a reward. She’s not a ~prize~. Just saying.

Oh for fuck’s sake don’t drag this drama to my board. I’m talking about narrative structures. Heroes’ journeys have rewards. If Sam’s reward is to go and live a full life with kids and grandkids and freedom to build his own family, that’s not whatever you’re... trying to paint the statement as right here. *gestures vaguely over the ask* She’s also a full character, no shit.  But one thing she is not, is a real human being that is wandering around of her own volition on script pages without a purpose in a story structure, none of them are. It’s tantamount to getting offended for me saying Sam serves as a passive protagonist. Or going bonkers if someone says that Cas is part of Dean’s reward (and frankly, Dean is part of Cas’), if finally answering their question about preferring peace or freedom (why not both?) and reuniting with the people he’s lost.

If you can’t address and understand contextual address of narrative structure my blog is not the place for you.

If you want women to be treated equally in story as much as respecting the value of their character we need to understand the value of their placement to the sum of a story and be able to talk about it without someone trying to manipulate it and make it a topic we can’t discuss. And yes, /a huge chunk of that story is her association with and importance to Sam./

Part of that is that, sorry, she is not a lead character. She’s a great character. She’s a much better match for Sam than a cardboard cutout of an idea like Jess. She’s a disability statement where she found her niche to still be powerful. She’s a lot of things. But she is not the one we are following a full Heroes’ Journey for. That’s how this works. If we were in an AU called UltraNatural with main character Eileen we follow the journey of and Sam brought back to rekindle with her, then Sam would be part of her reward too. But we’re not in that AU. We’re watching Supernatural. 

She’s not a real person being treated as a rEwArD expected of a gUY to GET but she IS LITERALLY FRAMED IN THE STORY AS A CENTRAL PART OF HIS DRIVE AND INEVITABLY HIS RESOLUTION. Unless you want to sit and argue with me that it ISN’T what Eileen’s central plot placement is so far, and we can sit and have that discussion. You can even not like that it’s what she’s there for, that doesn’t matter to me. But we’re not going to pretend the body of text is a living breathing thing to get offended on the behalf of, that’s absolutely not something we’re going to do on my blog, I’m not here for that.

Now if you want to have an ethics debate about “just bringing Eileen back for her central plot to be Sam’s romantic potential, because that’s devaluing to women”, we can do that, but you have to realize respectively on that front you more have to argue with the creators; and there’s intersectionality here, as one of the key gripes about disability representation is that they’re almost never afforded romances, they don’t get happy endings. If I’m not mistaken, that was actually part of the discussion at the SDCC panel shoshanna was part of. So you might have to argue with her, too. Which seems to really miss the point in the end, doesn’t it?

And of course it’s ironically devaluing the complexity of her character and what she could work out with Sam to assume, for example, this means she would just be a housewife instead of a still independent character -- which is implicit in the subtext of the subtext of this accusatory ask. Sam and Eileen already have agreements and already do field work together. So let’s not also try to vault to that indirect accusation against the authors either.

I don’t know why people try to throw this performative woke stuff at me when it never works out, my literal 40 hour a week day job is in progressive politics, my hobby is in following intersectionality in media and media history (because of FORMER career path pre-disability myself). I promise anything someone learned to yell about on tumblr is going to find itself falling on its ass. Please, guys, seriously, spare me the headache and the effort of essentially having to look like a bitch to point out how ridiculous the fandom circus points are at all corners. 

I’m open for legit asks like gnostic mythos or how production elements work, but please by all things holy, to my new like 20 followers in the last day if you learn any lesson, please learn this one, I’m not here for this kind of drama distracting from actually discussing our text.

[the-professor-of-gallifrey]

Nalu Week: Chance

Professor: The last day of Nalu except for the bonus prompts folks. Once again, this week has gone by so quickly… 

Warning, there is one M-Rated joke in this story. You have been warned. 

I don’t know yet if I will do the bonus prompts. If I do, then I will. If not, then I guess not. *shrugs* we’ll see. Until then, enjoy! 

…

Monday: 

Lucy took a deep breath, focusing all of her courage on her task. This had to be absolutely perfect. Natsu would be home any minute. 

She smirked to herself. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her husband’s face. 

Quickly, she reached down and adjusted the silverware on the table, making sure it was lined up exactly, before going and putting the food on the table. 

She had gone out and gotten one of those fancy silver platters, with the cover so you couldn’t see the actual food. Lucy had grown up with servants using them all the time, but she felt that this was a much better use for them. 

And, right on cue, Natsu burst through the door to their home, yelling for her. 

“I'm here!” she yelled, wiping her hands off on a towel before turning towards the living room. 

Natsu stood in the doorway, looking at her in confusion, “Are we expecting company?” 

“Nope,” she shook her head, still smiling. 

“Then why is the table like this?” he asked, gesturing to the elaborate set up she had done. 

Lucy glanced over her shoulder at it. Ok, so maybe the tablecloth and silver candlesticks that Mira had given her were over the top, but Lucy found herself not really caring at that particular moment. 

“I wanted to celebrate tonight!” 

“Celebrate what?” he asked before his eyes widened in panic, “Oh no, did I forget our anniversary?”

“No, you-”

“I’m sorry! Luce! I’ll go run and find you a gift now!” Natsu  yelled, cutting her off and rushing out the front door again.

Lucy watched him go, speechless. Slowly she turned back to the dinner she had made, lifting that silver cover off the plate. 

“Oh well,” she eventually shrugged, “He probably would have just eaten it before reading it anyway. I’ll just try again tomorrow.”

And with that, Lucy took the pizza with her careful message (spelled out in pepperoni) and stuck it in the fridge. 

Tuesday: 

Natsu woke up to a really strange noise. It sounded like laughter and giggling and...singing?

Yawning, Natsu rolled out of bed, marching into the living room where he found his wife watching the TV. 

“Um, Lucy, why are you watching a kids show?”

“Because, I feel like I should get use to it.”

“Used to it?” 

She nodded, “Yep. After all, this is what I’m going to be waking up to for the next sixyears or so.”

“Is this cause I bought you a toy for our anniversary yesterday?”

Lucy sighed, “No Natsu.”

“Are you sure? Cause you seemed to really like it last night when we played with it together in the be-”

“OK YOU CAN SHUT UP NOW!” Lucy yelled, her face bright red,.

Lucy stormed past him into the bathroom, leaving Natsu to stare after her, completely lost as to what just happened. He turned back to the TV, “Lucy likes Dora? What?”

Wednesday: 

‘Natsu, I reheated the leftover pizza from Monday and left it on the table for you. I’ll be back in about 20 minutes.

-Love, Lucy’

“Awesome!” Natsu smiled at the note left on the door, “Ice Queen, Lucy left us dinner!”

“Great, I’m starving.” Gray grumbled, “Let’s  go Flame Freak.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Natsu grumbled as he fumbled with his keys, finally wrestling the door to his house open. 

“Heads up, Lucy’s been acting weird the last few days.”

“Weird? Weird how?” Gray asked as he pushed past Natsu and into the kitchen. 

“Watching kid’s shows and stuff. Acting suspicious.” Natsu scratched his head, “I know she’s always been weird, but this is a new level for her.”

“Ummm...have you looked at this pizza?” Gray’s voice interrupted Natsu’s thoughts. 

“Nope! Why, what kind is it?” he tried to look past Gray to see, but Gray was doing a great job at blocking the doorway. 

“You’re an absolute idiot.” Gray sighed. 

“Hey! Don't insult me in my own house Iciscle!”

“I’ll do what I want Flame Brain!”

Natsu growled, punching Gray as hard as he could, launching him into the kitchen table and spilling the pizza all over the floor. 

When Lucy got home and found the two still fighting and covered in pizza sauce, she was not happy. 

Thursday: 

Natsu and Lucy walked into the bar that they liked to frequent with all of their friends, Fairy Tail. They hadn’t been able to go for most of the week because of work, but when Mira begged them to come down and visit, they couldn’t say no. 

It was as busy as ever, with a  brawl already in one corner and a drinking contest in another. 

“I’ll just have a strawberry milkshake, ok?” Lucy asked her husband before running off to say hello to Levy. 

Natsu chuckled, shaking his head, before walking up to the bar and ordering their drinks. 

“Hey Natsu.” Lisanna greeted him as Mira began making Lucy’s milkshake. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Not much,” she said, “School’s finally out for the summer.”

“Oh right, you only have a year left of college, don’t you?” he smiled brightly as his childhood friend, “Then you’ll officially be Dr. Strauss!”

Lisanna giggled, “Yeah, I’m excited for it.”

“You should be.” he said, “You’ll be the best vet in Magnolia!” 

“Hey!” Gajeel’s voice rang through the bar, interrupting their conversation, “What kind of music is this?!”

Natsu paused, listening to the song that was playing. 

“We’re having a baby, my baby and me.”

“For once I agree with Iron Breath over there.” Natsu muttered, “Who wants to listen to something sappy like that?”

He didn’t see Lucy looking crestfallen by the jukebox. 

Friday: 

When Lucy walking into Fairy Tail that afternoon and started hanging up a banner, no one was quite sure what to do. 

But, after reading said banner, everyone promptly began to celebrate. 

“Lucy! I’m so happy for you!” Mira squealed, hugging the blonde fiercely. 

“This is truly a blessing,” Erza agreed. 

“Thanks.” Lucy said, blushing, “But I really need to tell Natsu. This is my last idea before I just give up.”

“Give up?”

Lucy shrugged, “I’ll just let him figure it out in 8 months when I come home from the hospital.”

“He can be a little dense.” Lisanna giggled, “Good luck.” 

“If this doesn’t work, nothing will. Juvia wishes Love Rival best of luck.”

“Thanks.” she chuckled. 

A moment later, Natsu did walk in, although he didn’t see the banner right above the door. The rest of them anxiously waited for him to turn around and read it but-

“Laxus! Fight me!”

Lucy cried as the giant blond man accidently hit her husband too hard, knocking him out, “Why does he have to pick a fight with everyone?!”

Saturday: 

Natsu woke up in the living room with a pounding headache and a sobbing wife. 

Immediately he jumped up, ignoring his migraine, and tried to calm her down, but couldn’t even make out what she was saying. 

She just kept crying.

‘What in the world is going on?!’ he thought as he held her, completely lost.

…

Over the past month Lucy had changed a lot around the house and bought a lot of new furniture. 

A dresser. A crib. A changing table. 

And she had painted the second bedroom a soft yellow color. 

Finally Natsu couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Lucy! What are you doing?!” 

“I’m getting ready for our baby.” she said coldly. 

“I know that,” he snapped, “I meant, why are you doing it without me?!”

Lucy turned to face him, jaw dropping in astonishment, “You know?!”

“Of course I do,” he scoffed, “I found the pregnancy test the weekend you took it.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I was waiting for you to tell me!” 

“I tried! For an entire week! I spelled it out on a pizza! I played a song about having a baby! I watched Dora the Explorer! I even held up a banner in Fairy Tail that said ‘I’m pregnant’! It was plain as day!” she yelled at him, “You decided to fight Laxus before reading it!” 

Natsu fell silent, thinking back, realization finally dawning in his eyes, “You mean-”

“Yeah.” she nodded. 

Natsu was speechless for a long moment, but finally asked, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I wanted it to be special.” she huffed, crossing her arms. 

Natsu smiled, wrapping his arms around her, “It is special. This is our baby. I don’t care how I found out. I just want the chance to be a parent, to have a kid with you, ok?”

“...Ok.” 

Natsu leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. Slowly, Lucy felt her anger slipping away. 

He was right. This chance was special, no matter how they found out about it. She wouldn’t choose to go through this with anyone else. 

Professor: Ok, so I had a lot of trouble with this prompt. I had multiple ideas for this prompt, but none of them would work out, so I finally said “Whatever, post the best of the worst ones and call it good.” So I apologize for the poor quality of this story, but I just couldn’t get anything to be right, and this was the best I could come up with. 

For those interested, the song was called “Having a baby, my baby and me” from ‘I Love Lucy’. They use it in an episode and I thought it was a cute idea so I borrowed it. Obviously I don’t own it or Fairy Tail. 

This has been posted to my FF.Net account

Love you all and thank you for your support through this crazy writing week!

[vagrantblvrd]

Where the Shadows Lay (1/1)

Summary: Someone wanting them dead isn’t a new experience. Someone wanting them dead badly enough to sic the Vagabond on them is just all kinds of uncalled for.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who wanted Freewood with the Vagabond hired to kill the crew. (And bonus Drama, because reasons. :D?)

(Read on AO3)

They’ve definitely had better days.

Botch job and the cops chasing them until Michael lost them a few blocks back, but the damage had already been done. Tires shredded from bullets and reckless driving and it’s just as much luck as skill that leaves them alive at the end of it.

“Gavin, you need to shut the fuck up,” Michael says, pained wheeze to it as Gavin drags him from the wreck of their getaway car.

Used to be a lovely little thing. Shiny and fast and expensive as balls to hear Michael talk, and now it’s so much scrap metal wrapped around a light pole. Gas leaking from the tank and a hazard to be around.

Gavin ignores Michael because he’s the one who crashed the car and Gavin is not having it from him right now.

Not after that stunning display of skill and ability and total lack of turning to avoid obstacles.

“Oh my God,” Michael mutters, stumbling hard against Gavin who takes more of his weight without protest. “Oh my fucking God. Gimme your gun, asshole, swear to God I’m going to kill you myself.”

Gavin snorts, and focuses on hauling Michael out of the blast range. Not the easiest thing he’s ever done, body protesting every step of the way and Michael's breathing all wrong in his ear, but they don’t have a lot of choice in things at the moment.

When Gavin judges they’re a reasonable distance away he settles Michael against a wall because he’s a heavy bastard and Gavin’s ribs are not happy about it. (His ribs, his back. Everything, really.)

Mind churning, trying to figure out where they go from here.

The others got away – they did - and Gavin’s phone is lost in the wreckage of the car, too risky to go back for it. God knows where Michael’s is after the tussle with the Merryweather goon before they got out of the building.

Michael’s earpiece went the way of his phone, most likely, and Gavin’s is fidgety, fussy. Bursts of static in between snippets of conversation from the others.

Not the worst situation, but they’ve been better.

There’s a safehouse not too far from where they are.

Good place to go to ground until things settle down out here. Contact the others to let them know they’re still alive, patch each other up best they can.

Just. Need to rest first, orient themselves before they set off.

“Getting a bit fat there, boi,” he murmurs, because Michael’s not doing well. Bleeding all over and looking like he just came out of the fight ring again. Worse. “Too many fast food runs with Jeremy, I reckon.”

Michael scowls at him, but doesn’t argue the point, which is worrying in itself.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Gavin says, sitting back on his heels. Feels blood spilling from his split lip when he grins, slipping into the scruff on his chin but it’s a small hurt. Slight sting compared to everything else. “Michael Jones, agreeing with me.”

And there, there is the Michael Gavin knows. Snarl on his face and mouth opening to retort, slap Gavin down a peg or two in this little back-and-forth game of theirs.

“Fuck.”

There’s a sound behind Gavin. Footsteps. Michael’s gaze skipping past him to focus on something behind him, eyes narrowing. Hand coming up to grab the front of Gavin's shirt, jerking him down so their eyes meet.

Gavin flails, throws a hand out for balance. It puts them closer together, lets Michael speak without fear of his words carrying past them.

“Get the fuck out of here Gavin,” he says, no levity to it. “Go.”

Gavin stares at him, sees the worry, fear, in his eyes quickly hidden because Michael's like that, isn’t he. Glares at Gavin to make sure he knows Michael’s not fucking around here, to goddamn listen to him for once. Please.

The footsteps slow. Stop altogether, and Gavin hears a gun being cocked.

Not the cops, because they would have shot by now. Yelled a bit too, unimaginative threats and insults, but whoever crept up on them hasn’t bothered with that.

Puts the hair on the back of Gavin’s neck up, chill down his spine.

“Alright,” Gavin says, just for Michael. “Alright.”

There’s a flash of relief, determination, in Michael's eyes as he lets Gavin go. Shoves him to push him away, and Gavin uses the slight momentum to start things off.

Just -

“Sorry, boi,” he says, and snatches the gun he can see tucked into Michael’s waistband hidden by that jacket of his. Gets to his feet and turns, gun raised to see a figure standing a few feet away.

Everyone in Los Santos knows who the Vagabond is, of course they do. Too many stories, rumors, floating about the city not to.

Somehow the reality of the man is more intimidating than all the horrible stories that go along with the name, his reputation.

Black of his skull mask terrifying in the dim light of the alley, and Gavin can hear Michael bitching him out behind him. (Fear, desperation. Anger.)

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Gavin says, lays the charm on thick as he spots the Vagabond’s gun aimed at him, lovely little standoff going on. “Which is a shame, I’ve heard about your work. Amazing stuff.”

Horrifying, too, if you just go by the stories.

If you bother to do a little digging, you get a better idea of the truth. Glimpse of the larger picture and all that.

Still a big, scary bastard, but not quite the monster people like to paint him as.

Ruthless, yes, but not a monster. (Los Santos, though. Loves to twist things just so, turn things on their heads and backwards.)

The Vagabond’s watching them, nary a flicker of emotion to give him away. Tall and dark and menacing and Gavin will be honest here, no reason not to, but this isn’t how he thought he’d go out.

And he’s thought about it, since he got into this life. Scraping by on his own by picking pockets and dabbling in night-time robbery. Picking up hacking almost by accident and on and on and on, all the ways he’d die and never once something like this.

Oversight on his part, surely.

The crew’s gotten big enough to be a problem for people here in Los Santos. Rocking the boat, as the says goes. Shaking things up and making people uneasy and of course someone would think of sending the Vagabond after them before too long.

“Gavin, what the fuck?” Michael hisses, sound of his voice drawing the Vagabond’s attention as he switches his aim to Michael.

Nice fat target siting on his arse the way he is, and Gavin won’t have that either.

Moves to put himself between Michael and the Vagabond’s gun, smile full of teeth when the man tips his head to the side, just so.

Not expecting Gavin to do that, or the way Michael's full-on bitching at Gavin out for being this kind of stupid. (Might stand a chance if he ran, popped off a few shots at the Vagabond and fled. Left Michael behind as a sacrifice and everything would be fine, yeah? No worries at all.)

Gavin’s earpiece decides it’s going to be good, and he gets a loud burst of static in his ear followed by worried yelling – the others demanding to know what’s going on – and it’s distracting. So. Gavin reaches up and pulls the mangled thing out of his ear. Tucks all nice and safe in his shirt pocket and gives the Vagabond a little smile.

“Sorry, that was rude of me,” he says. Shrugs. “It was giving me a bit of a headache too, to be honest.”

There’s a burst of muffled yelling, shouting, cursing from the earpiece, and Gavin smiles brighter when the Vagabond gives him this look.

Well.

Gavin assumes he’s giving him that look anyway, so used to the particular vibe he gets when someone does it.

“Where were we?” Gavin asks, shuffles to keep Michael squarely behind him when Michael moves around.

Tries to pull the Vagabond’s attention back to him, and Gavin’s certain they must look like a pair of lunatics, but nothing about this is funny.

The Vagabond says nothing, but after a moment he lowers his gun.

Gavin is...confused, to say the least.

Figures the only reason the Vagabond would track them down like this would be to kill them, and since the man has a zero percent failure rate this is odd behavior from him.

“Fucking shoot him!” Michael hisses, like one of those damned shoulder angels you see in the cartoons. “Gavin!”

Gavin huffs, shifts his grip on his borrowed gun and thinks about it.

He’s a better-than-average shot, and from this distance there’s not much chance he’d miss. Assuming the Vagabond is half as good as the rumors say, he’ll still lose precious seconds bringing his gun back up to aim it at Gavin. (Or, Gavin thinks. He could go for Michael instead. Cost him less time to aim and all that.)

So.

Gavin lowers his gun, decides it’s the safer bet here. Show of trust or faith, or maybe just Gavin being a naive bastard about to get them both killed. (Flip a coin, take a risk.)

The Vagabond could have shot them any time he wanted. Killed them before they even knew he was there, those deliberate footsteps and accompanying drama. Little standoff that’s taken a strange turn.

He doesn’t know why the Vagabond hasn’t, but Gavin’s not about to question it. (Not yet.)

The Vagabond inclines his head – smug bastard – and walks away without a word spoken.

Gavin stares after him, no idea what to make of the whole strange situation.

“Jesus fuck, Gavin, what was that?” Michael demands, struggles to get on his feet, and Gavin tucks his gun away to help the idiot before he hurts himself.

Takes the glare Michael shoots him, the frustrated punch to his shoulder without complaint because he knows Michael.

“Safehouse isn’t far,” Gavin says, feeling shaky after that confrontation with the Vagabond, the aftermath of the chase and resulting crash. The whole damn day. “You going to faint on me before we get there?”

Teasing edge to it, mocking, just enough to get Michael fired up. Stubborn as hell and angry about it as he berates Gavin for being an idiot and not running while he had the chance, and Gavin bites down a laugh as he points them in the right direction.

========

They get one hell of a dressing down from Geoff and Jack when the others come get them. Lecture about why you don’t just go radio silent on them like that Gavin, Jesus fucking Christ. (Too soft when it comes down to it, this crew. Care about each other too damn much and it’s bound to get them killed one day.)

Gavin listens to it all with half an ear, well used to Geoff’s lectures and the things he won’t, can’t, say that go into them. Too busy watching Jack handling Michael, quiet words and the way the two of them just get one another.

And then -

“He what?” Jack says, tone of his voice derailing Geoff’s lecture, drawing everyone's attention.

Gavin winces as Jack pins him in place with a look. Expression hard to read as always.

“What’s this about the Vagabond?”

Yes, that.

Gavin clears his throat, all too aware of the way everyone’s watching him.

“Did I forget to mention that?”

========

Geoff puts the crew on lockdown, once everyone’s accounted for. Hides them away in a safehouse only the crew knows about until they get this mess sorted, and Gavin goes along with if for the first few days.

Hurts too much to get up to any shenanigans, as Jack phrases it. Waits until he heals up a bit, until Michael's moving around under his own power. Gotten more vocal about things and doesn’t make Gavin worry so much.

Doesn’t stop him from getting restless from being cooped up, sneaking out to wander the perimeter. Old habits and paranoia, and it pays off in its own way a week down the road when he realizes there’s a sniper out there.

Little red light sweeping along the asphalt to land over his heart, wink of light against the scope on a rooftop in the distance.

Gentle warning, Gavin knows. Rooted to the spot, all too aware of how vulnerable he is.

Could be anyone out there, the bastards after them or some other enemy with incredible timing.

The way the dot vanishes without warning, there and gone, and Gavin still standing tells him it’s not.

Knows the Vagabond’s too smart to hang around after that little...whatever it was, but he still goes to check it out.

Slips past the B-Team members guarding the perimeter and makes his best guess where the Vagabond would have set up his sniper’s nest. Spends half the night looking for it before he stumbles on that damn thing. Finds cigarette butts and empty cans of diet eCola. Candy wrappers. Nothing helpful, and it’s driving Gavin mad.

So.

Gavin sneaks out.

Does a proper job of it after he lets slip they might want to consider the threat of snipers. (Plenty of viable spots for one to set up shop, pick them off one by one, and all that.)

Plays dirty and calls on a favor with Lindsay, bribes Matt with guaranteed good behavior from Gavin for a solid month to be redeemed when Matt sees fit.

Lindsay’s too much like him, fire in her eyes about protecting their boys and she knows how Gavin works by now. Makes him promise to check in regularly. Not do anything stupid like getting himself killed, and sends him off with a kiss to his cheek and the keys to one of her cars in his hand. Winks as she tells him no one knows it’s out of the shop yet, won’t be missed.

And Matt -

He’s Matt.

Too clever by far, saw it coming from the moment Gavin and Michael told the crew about the Vagabond’s appearance.

Demands Gavin send him everything he finds out and maybe not die out there, huh? Be a shitty way to go out.

Gavin leaves his gear at the warehouse because that would be a dead giveaway of his intentions, and he’s got plenty stashed elsewhere. (Never know when something will go wrong, after all. Best to be prepared for anything.)

He goes to a safehouse even Michael doesn’t know about. Hidey spot from before his days with the crew he hasn’t needed in ages. Dusts everything off and starts planning.

Gavin goes to see Maddy down by the docks. Ignores the rumblings from her boys who are the closest things to pirates Los Santos has these days.

Wheels and deals, sells off favors like it’s going out of fashion and gets names, a motive, in return. (Bit of debt he can’t handle, the way of things in a city like Los Santos.)

Bastards the Fakes tangled with a year back, broke their crews down to kindling when they tried to move in Fake territory. Killed some of their allies in the area, made a mess of things that forced them to treat more harshly than they would have otherwise. (Geoff coldly furious, and the rest right there with him.)

“Ah, well then,” Gavin says, does a little more digging after sending off a message to Matt with what he’s learned.

More than enough reason to hold a grudge. Want to hit back at the Fakes, make them hurt.

Go after them one by one, let Geoff watch his little empire crumble and burn, supports knocked out from under him.

Maybe hire the Vagabond, offer him a significant amount of money to make sure someone did the job right, but.

Why let Gavin and Michael go?

Why not kill Gavin when he had him in his cross hairs? Or go after the others when he had the element of surprise on his side?

==========

Turns out, even the Vagabond’s got enemies too big to handle on his own.

Rival crew to the Fakes, funding the bastards who are taking the revenge game to a far more personal level than most they’ve dealt with until now.

Hired the Vagabond on to deal with them because they didn’t trust those idiots to get the job done, or maybe they just wanted to watch the chaos unfold.

Weaken the Fakes, get them looking the wrong way and move in for the kill. Use the Vagabond as another distraction in the meantime.

Big enough threat to make him agree to work for them, and not one of theirs so why worry what happens to him? (Might want to lump him in with the Fakes before it’s all said and done, remove another obstacle in their way.)

“Did I get that right?” Gavin asks, arm pressed to his throat and point of a knife resting under his eye.

Vagabond in his space and most likely the stupidest risk Gavin’s taken to date. (Hopefully not his last.)

“I don’t have all the details, so I hope you forgive me. I did the best I could with what I had.”

And oh, the favors he owes now. Gonna be a long time in getting back to where he was before all this.

The Vagabond is staring at him, using that damn mask and this whole knife thing of his to intimidate Gavin, but honestly.

The man’s been leaving them a trail of breadcrumbs to follow this whole time. Doing what he can to lead them to the right answers without outright telling them.

Well, alright.

He’d taken a more roundabout way of doing things than most people would, but Gavin figured it out, didn't he?

Tracked the man to his little safehouse and almost gotten past his security before being caught.

And now here they are.

There’s a nail digging into Gavin's back, stabbing into his shoulder blade and he wriggles a little. Tries to get the pressure off it – and the Vagabond makes this...noise.

Alarmed, has him yanking the knife away from Gavin’s face and moving back a little, head cocked as though he has no damn idea what to make of Gavin.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gavin mutters, using what room he’s been given by the Vagabond backing off to get more comfortable. “Nail poking me in the back. Annoying.”

He looks up at the Vagabond, and goes still because the man seems confused.

Holds the knife up where Gavin can see it and waggles it to remind Gavin of the precarious position he’s in. (Looks like he can’t believe Gavin isn’t in the least bit concerned.)

“Yes, yes,” Gavin says. Soothes. “You love your knives. I understand. Very shiny and sharp.”

The arm against Gavin’s throat presses harder, punishment for making light of things, and Gavin -

“Rude,” Gavin wheezes, going lightheaded. “Also, not helping your case.”

There’s a little snarl, frustration to it as the Vagabond eases up.

Looms.

They stare at each other for a long, long moment, and then the Vagabond just...deflates.

Doesn’t sigh, no, but he pulls his arm away from Gavin’s throat, takes a few steps back and his shoulder slump.

Watches Gavin, completely baffled.

Knife in his hand like a child who’s thrown a tantrum and didn’t get the reaction he expected and no idea what to do next.

And Gavin.

Gavin grins, straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. Plays off the Golden Boy’s reputation, borrows a little of Geoff’s theatrics.

“What do you say,” Gavin says, bounces on his heels. “What do you say we team up, yeah? Make those bastards sorry they thought they could get away with this?”

Using those poor bastards with a grudge against the Fake, strong-arming the Vagabond into working for them. Everything they’ve done to get things to this stage, send the Fakes into hiding and damn near kill Michael.

All of it.

Turn everything around on them and let them know who they’re messing with, remind them how the Fakes got where they are. Why everyone in the city knows the Vagabond’s name, his reputation.

Rude wake up call, as they say, and too long in coming.

The Vagabond snorts, tucks his knife away and looks at Gavin.

Nods his head, and Gavin laughs.

Knows he’s a damned idiot, taking the risks he has, but he’s got a good feeling about this.